


The Perks of The Job

by DestinyFreeReally



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:45:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7054198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyFreeReally/pseuds/DestinyFreeReally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her nose crinkled at the sides, top lip curled. It was gross to even think about. But here she was ...thinking about it. Old, reliable Buffy would've never gone for this, her mind told her. Dutiful Slayers staked vampires, it was a pretty easy code to remember. Nothing at all in the Slayer handbook about hiring one to protect you, and paying him...oh yeah, with your blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deal or No Deal

     "Well, that's why they call me a merc, pet. Don't much care who I haveta kill." He lit a cigarette and held his pose against the Bronze's rusted side. He had to admit, Sunnydale was an interesting little town in its own right. Hellmouth a flutter, cute little Slayer to nip his heels; some of the local music outfits weren't even half bad. He could picture himself taking a short term job here. Sample the local nightlife, cause fuss where he could. The Bronze had reeked of Slayer power to him before she'd even introduced herself, and he almost found himself intrigued. 

 

     "I mean..yeah, but you're gonna haveta kill other vampires. Like, a lot of them, probably." Buffy knew Giles would  _kill_ her for either being here or contemplating what she was contemplating. But the  _damn_ prophecy. She had to do everything she could to try and get out of that ever becoming anywhere near the realm of true. This was part of that everything. Angel had left town, kissed her hands and promised her that  _destiny_ was worth putting her faith in, but to Buffy that hadn't held much water. She'd liked him. He gave her warm fuzzies, and sometimes even helped with the vamps. But she was scared now and he'd left her alone. Just like she was meant to die. _Destiny_ , how fun. She grimaced. Angel had let slip that he'd known Spike, as a younger vampire. Two of them had run in the same fangy circles, Buffy figured. But Angel said he was different now.  _Hired fangs and fists,_ and Angel had snorted in derision. Maybe Buffy should've, too. At least the Slayer should have. But the thought stuck with her. Any edge she could get on the prophecy, without putting anyone else she loved in danger...well, for a bad idea it sounded pretty good.  
  
     "Yeah, well. Never been too popular, I guess. What's in it for me, Blondie?" This was the third Slayer he'd met properly. She was  _young_ , her baby lashes framed pretty eyes, and hell, she was here trusting him so that had to be chocked up to naivety. Or desperation, Spike couldn't yet smell which.   
  
     "You get to stay  _undusted?"_ She tried, but he barely stuttered his cigarette's inhale. Reminding herself that he hadn't seen her work, hadn't seen her make dust piles out of opponents, hadn't seen the business end of her stake. He wasn't scared of her, yet. She could only sigh. Last season's sweaters were going to have be for this season, too.  "Fine. I'll pay you. I don't have a lot of money. But you can have what I have.  _And_ I mean it. I really won't kill you after you help me. Provided, that goes both ways." Striking a truce, almost, with a vampire. If the Master didn't kill her Giles was sure going to make a go of it. In her head she practiced her arguments with him. And then contemplated not telling him at all. This deal with Spike didn't change the prophecy. She could at least let her Watcher have good, wholesome, Slayer martyr memories of her. You know, for when she died, tragically, as stoically foretold. Yadda, yadda, destiny.  
  
     "What if I wanted blood?" A thought came to Spike that quirked his scarred eyebrow. If it  _was_ desperation in this Slayer's head, this could end up being a good deal for him. Of course, he only took deals that would good for him. Helped keep him alive and  _tickled_ inside.   
  
     "What?" He watched her baby lashes blink. This would be fun.   
  
     "You know. Sampling of the goods. Keep your allowance money and I drink from the tap. Slayer's blood has all kinds of _perks_ , love." His cigarette had been spent, and he tossed it away. Buffy felt his  _eyes_ on her in such a strange manner...totally  _wig-_ worthy and for a second she thought maybe she was a tiny bit in over her head. But hey, how much longer did she really have to keep sticking her foot in her mouth?  
  
    "You're kidding. I give you my blood....as like,  _food?"_ Her nose crinkled at the sides, top lip curled. It was  _gross_ to even think about. But here she was ...thinking about it. Old, reliable Buffy would've never gone for this, her mind told her. Dutiful Slayers staked vampires, it was a pretty easy code to remember. Nothing at all in the Slayer handbook about hiring one to protect you, and paying him...oh yeah, with your blood.   
  
     "You do have a Watcher that explains vampires to you, yes? That's how we work. Deal, or no?" He was itching for a drink, now. Probably a few local haunts he could crawl out of in a few hours. He'd only been in Sunnydale a day and this tiny little Slayer had already found him. He'd have to ask her how. Some other night, maybe. Carefully, he watched her face go through emotions as neither of them spoke a few seconds. Her brows furrowed, and smoothed, eyes obviously plagued by anxiety, and anger. He felt her anger come off her in waves, even if she didn't formally address it. For a second he thought it would be good to work for her, rather than fight against her. Slayer's certainly did always keep things interesting. Their blood alone.  
   
     Buffy's jaw set as the first decision she'd made for herself, and alone, that mattered, was made. Her face changed before him, suddenly she was almost unreadable. He shifted his weight and waited for her verdict.  
  
     " _I_ will bleed once a week into..a  _mug_ or something. There's no  _biting_ in this arrangement. I do not see you drink my blood. We do not talk about you drinking my blood. You very literally take that secret to my grave. Actually, we should get a code word for it or something.  _Apples._  You work for me, exclusively, you help me fight the Master and I give you  _apples_ until that happens. You don't feed on anyone else. And not in like a you-keep-it-from-me-but-keep-doing-it way. I'm the Slayer."  _I alone stand against the...._  
  
     "Oh, what? You don't trust me." Spike could barely keep back a grin in the damp alleyway. Sunnydale was turning out to be very interesting indeed. "You understand I'll need a taste of the  _apples_." Now he smiled. "In good faith. I agree to all your terms. You don't tell anyone I'm here. Don't need the whole Hellmouth knowing my bloody business. You're quite bossy when you've made up your mind." Her back was still set straight, she'd never relaxed around him. Heart steady, but quick. He smiled again. "It's cute, Slayer. You've just hired yourself a vampire merc. Night, love. Don't let the bed bugs bite."   
  
    He turned into the night, leaving her to stew with her decision. She knew it was wrong, but it felt right. To have ownership, stake, in her own life felt like something she'd been lost for days without. Ever since hearing the prophecy, and then losing Angel, and expecting to still be cheerful-homework-doing Buffy. She'd shared confidence with a vampire before her best friends, before her Watcher, and then she'd let him walk away untouched.  _Hope_ actually settled in her chest. She knew what it felt like. Like when her dad used to come home early some nights. Or when she'd felt like she had an ally in Angel. Hope had betrayed her before. What she had now was a  _Spike_ , someone she couldn't trust as far as she could toss him, but she could count on  _that._ She was already counting on it.   
  
       
  
     


	2. Chapter 2

     "Pay up, pet." His hand found her shoulder in the dark of the Bronze.  She'd been  _half_ avoiding him for a couple of days since their deal. Half avoiding and half.....just conveniently not running into him on patrols or at the Bronze or anywhere else in Sunnydale.   
  
    The music in the Bronze was blaring, crunchy metal rhythms drummed static dance into Buffy's body under the weight of Spike's hand.   
  
    "Spike, I said  _I'll_ -" Buffy ducked her head to look around, almost forgetting for a second the super-secret-double-life-of-a-teenage-mutant-vampire-slayer marathon her life was. She clamped his hand on her shoulder and walked them out to the alley, flight-attendant-cheesing-it the whole way, for appearances. "Does this  _look_ like a good time to you, Spike?" Part of her had been curious as to when or if he'd turn up eventually. She knew she was still uneasy about the ick factor in their agreement, and he hated her guts both personally and professionally so she figured there was at least a chance he'd want out of this whole arrangement when he really thought about it.   
  
    "My stomach grumbling says it's a bang-up time, Slayer." He let his tongue slide over his top lip, eyes never leaving hers in the dark alley.   
  
     "Yeah well, maybe you just ate someone really mad." She felt like. Kicking the ground like a little kid or something. Feeding a vamp her  _blood_... talking about it had been gross.  _Doing_ it would probably be....grosser. She turned her back to him and folded her arms. Catching her shoulder to turn her to face him again, he almost startled them both, and retracted his hand.   
  
     "Impossible, luv, gone veggie, remember? That's the bloody problem. Now, I've waited you out quite long enough- dont see why I should go bloody hungry while you sway in the throes of Catholic guilt." He pursed his lips into a face like he'd tasted lemons. "You need me, I need blood. Makin' sense to you? Time to back up all that bravado, luv." He had waited, that much was true. A few girls had nearly tempted him into breaking the deal... easy, easy marks for him. Little midnight snacks. Sucking a tooth he took a deep breath and really  _smelled_ Buffy; sweat, blood, that encompassing power. Coconut shampoo or perfume or something.   
  
     "Fine. Let me find a spindle to prick or something."  _Prick._ Buffy reminded herself that this was her best bet, her best chance at beating the master and staying alive. This was something she chose for herself.   
  
     "Could do it back at my place?" He offered her a suggestive look that ripped her away from her  _Catholic guilt_ , until she just shrugged and followed him off. At least she could get some patrolling done on the way.   
  
      


	3. Chapter 3

     "Are you just gonna  _stand there?"_ Even  _Angel_ had helped with the slayage sometimes and she hadn't even been paying him! Buffy dusted three vamps, two with ease, and the last one with a bit of struggle. He'd hooked her legs out from under her, got her to the ground, and then eventually she landed the fatal stake-to-the-chest. But the dirt would probably ruin her cute little sweater! And hello, big stupid vampire there could've helped but he was too busy standing idly by, grinning. Buffy dusted off as much as she could and got back to her feet.   
  
     "You had it handled, luv. Staked 'em good and proper." He turned to continue walking them to his crypt. "I'm a bit knackered you see, on account of starving to death. Withering away before your eyes. My doctor says I really should get more nourishment if I'm going to be doing anything with _exertion_." He talked over his shoulder to her, both wading through the cemetery like their own territory. Buffy still had her stake in hand and her brain quipped about dusting him just for being dramatic about getting fed.   
  
     "I get it, I get it, give the horse a break from the beating. You'll get your blood."  _My blood_ , but she willed the thought away. This was about.... survival and winning a war. War wasn't comfortable, it wasn't nice, and survival wasn't easy. So she conceded major points from the get go but as long as Spike held up his deal, she might get out of this alive. Now if she could just get him to hold up his deal  _quietly_....  
  
    They got to his crypt within a few minutes, without further undead incidents, and Buffy tried not to dismiss it right out of hand. The carvings on the outside were beautiful, if not exactly Martha Stewart inspired, and covered in spider webbing and probably centuries of grime and grit. It....didn't look like much to Buffy. She could see it afforded some privacy, which helped ease her mind a little. She didn't really want to be.... _Apples-ing_ where anyone could see. It was interesting to her, that she'd never really though of lone vamps like this before. Some vamps had groups, really. And made nests, usually in abandoned buildings, sometimes crypts. But singular vamps she hadn't  _hunted_ necessarily; hadn't gone after their nests in the same way. Spike flicked the switch of his lighter to light a cigarette and disturbed her thought; brought her back to the  _right here and now_ of the situation she was in. Feeding a vampire as payment for protection from another, more evil? vampire.  _Buffy Tuesdays are so much fun.  
  
_     "Got these old bourbon glasses...gonna haveta do, pet. Unless you're rethinking your condition?" He flashed fang but it didn't scare her, at least it didn't affect her heartbeat and she hardly blinked. Well, she was used to vampires, after all.   
  
     "Big, fat, no thanks to that. Got a..." Buffy stopped to think for a second. She hadn't ever bled on  _purpose_ before and she felt weird going about it now. She took feeling weird as a good thing. If she felt normal that would be bad, she figured. "I don't know. Was trying not to go with knife, but hey. Tonight's already dead. Got a clean knife anywhere?"   
  
    Spike rummaged for a few minutes, looking through his few belongings. He traveled light, so he could travel fast. Sometimes his jobs came with enemies that were above his clients' paygrade. He was still hoping the Master wasn't one of those. That still depended on Buffy. And her  _apples_. Tossing her the butt of the knife, he heard her hiss with her back to him, and the smell of  _Slayer blood_ consumed him for a moment. Consumed him with hunger, and with memories. He focused on the thrum of her pulse, and the droplets he could hear splash against the side of the glass as they spilled from what he could guess was her finger or maybe her palm. Flashes of what it would be like to tear out her throat right then and there entered his mind; demon barely at bay, he shook himself and lit another cigarette.   
  
  
    It wouldn't be good business to kill her. Not to kill her now, anyway. William the Bloody kills his clients? That wouldn't be a good look for a mercenary with his talents. He had prided himself on his control for decades; even this week he'd turned down sickly sweet prey in those girls. But the smell of her blood stung his senses, and he knew then, this deal would be  _worth_ it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so i've decided to play with time a bit in this fic. bending canon to my will, and such. for all intents and purposes i'm gonna say Buffy's 17 here. and ... the rest tbd. if you have questions (i hope you wont! hopefully stuffs clear) but if you have questions totally let me know and i'll answer em!

     The deed was done, her palm stung as she wrapped it with a bandage, and Spike stood there grinning like a... like a vamp who just fed off the Slayer.  
  
     "Did you haveta do it while I was still  _here_..." Buffy sighed. There was evidence up to her eyeballs, quite literally in front of her face, that she was the worst Slayer that ever lived. And that was saying something because there had been like a jillion Slayers to ever live.   
  
     God, she sounded just like a seventeen year old girl to him. Which of course, she was. But still he rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes very  _maturely,_ as he lapped up the last droplet of blood from his top lip. Sweet, and potent, he let it melt on to his tongue and tried to keep his demon at bay while enjoying himself immensely.  
  
     "Can't imagine the Council's got the stones to let you hire  _me."_ He  _felt_ her blood energize him. Was still feeling it. Ebbing and coursing into him, warm, ancient power beyond the telling of it.  He felt like he'd just run a marathon or jumped out of a plane....or fed off a Slayer. Of course, without all the great little  _feeding_ bits, but still. Slayer blood was a fine wine with a ten course meal, all with dessert and the cutest little cherry on top. It was the very nectar of irony that they should be enemies;  _should_ be, because after all they were on the same side now, Spike reminded himself. The side that wanted her sweet, delicious blood to keep pumping away.   
  
      " _Let_ wouldn't be the word I'd use...you know, since they know nothing about it." Guilt rose up in her throat again. "I haven't exactly been the do-good Slayer here. You know, with the being  _here_ and all. I know that Slayerhood  _means_ I get to protect people and fight  _evil_ and stuff. And I know that comes with...early expiration. But I wanna be like. Way, way spoiled when I expire." Her face was all scrunched up again; struck with  _destiny_ beyond her grasping of it.   
  
      Spike felt sorry for her, without meaning to. The Slayers he'd... known.... had all been older. Still young women, still in their teens but probably just barely. And he hadn't sent a post card with the date and time of when he was coming. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.  
  
     "Would you rather not know?" The softness of his voice struck Buffy. Through the cigarette smoke, and the heavy  _ew_ of him drinking her blood, for a second he felt human to her. Well, maybe not human, but rather like a man. Something about his eyes.   
  
     "I almost died before, you know. Like every night for awhile." She let herself smile for just a second, and then continued. "I was patrolling in LA, before me and mom moved here. I saw vamps around campus and I picked a few off but some...I mean, I was practically out-of-the-package new, you know? And there were so many. And it was  _almost_ okay, we almost...we almost made it but, there was a big group, probably eight or nine, that I chased into the school's gym. I had this little zippo lighter, and  _god_ it seems like such a long time ago. Less than a year. I was such..I was a  _different_ Buffy, let's say. And I had this little zippo lighter, and I dumped holy water on one vamp and he was  _wailing_ about it, getting all smokey  and gross, but the smoke gave me an idea. I tried to light one on fire while I fought off another, and ended up catch the bleachers. And yay for improv-Buffy because I  _figured_ if I just locked the gym, they'd all burn which yay they did, but so did the  _gym_ which is how I got to Sunnydale. But I didn't realize after I'd locked the one door, my Watcher, had gone in the back. I guess...you know? Cavalry, and stuff. His was the only body they found in the fire, of course. There were two vamps that got away."  _But they didn't get very far._

     She sat quiet, almost embarrassed by the word vomit of Buffy history that she let slip all at once. She hadn't really even told Giles that story. Hadn't really told anyone. She'd thought about telling Angel, but he hadn't really seemed interested and in a way she thought he might've ended up making her feel bad about it and about not telling Giles. Starting over in Sunnydale had been great for all of four seconds before  _destiny_ caught up to her. And here she was, prepping for a day that might actually top the gym nightmare on the suck-o-meter.  
  
     At some point during her reminiscing Spike had actually started listening intently, and his focus still fixed on her even when she'd finished speaking. Of course, he'd done a lot of bad in his unlife, and a lot of bad he was  _proud_ of, but Catholic guilt didn't cover it with this Slayer. He had too many questions all at once, curiosity always did seem to get the better of him. Especially when it came to Slayers. She was fiddling with her hand's bandage, the bleeding had stopped, Spike  _knew_ , and he was struck again by the realization that he found her very interesting. It'd been a long time since he'd  _talked_ to a client about anything other than price, and usually bar fights were his preferred method of socialization.   
       
     "Sounds like a rough gig, pet. No wonder you need a vamp sidekick." He wiggled his eyebrows, and she let go of the breath she'd been holding. He saw her loosen up a little, physically, not a  _lot_ , but a little. Which was interesting.   
  
     "You're the  _mascot_ , thank you very much." She let herself be lulled out of Buffy-trauma-land, and reminded herself to focus on what was to come. That was how she was gonna stay alive.  
  
     "If I'm the mascot, how come you're paying so well, pet?" He wondered, almost outloud, if she was willing to discuss just how his name had crossed her path. There was much more to this Slayer than the seventeen-year-old Buffy. Though Buffy was significant.   
  
      "Just nice, I guess. Plus actually.. and I'll stake you if you tell anyone this." She waited a beat and dropped her voice a little. Spike couldn't help but smile. "It's kind of reassuring...paying you in  _apples_...." He waited for her to suss out her thought and continue. "It's not like that's something a higher bidder can give you or something, you know. The Master can probably offer you some dusty Hellspawn or something but I'm the only Slayer." It was a thought that had come to her during the course of her being in his crypt. She was the only one who could provide him with Slayer blood. And she could see what it was doing to his eyes... they were practically glowing. If that's what it  _felt_ like....well, no wonder vamps were always yammering on about drinking her. Buffy put her coat back on and willed herself to go back out and patrol. This had been..strangely almost nice, except for the hand-cutting part. "I should probably finish patrol. All work and all slay, you know." She found herself wanting to thank him, which felt weird to her. Seeing as she was the one who had fed him, and he hadn't even helped stake those other vamps. And he  _was_ a vampire himself.   
  
     He'd seen her fighting before; she was still young, but she definitely had style. He would've never guessed her legs would be the things to watch out for. She'd been dead quick fighting those vamps, and he'd watched her face curve into a smile at the kill. She knew she was good but she still liked to feel it. He could relate to that. He wondered what her world was like; outside the slaying, but he could start with that.   
  
       "Well...I'm still a bit jazzed from the... _apples_ ," He offered her a wink. "You could always, tuck into bed and let a bloke get some violence in for the night." He struggled with whether that was part of their deal. But it would technically keep her alive. For tonight, at least. "Just this once. And then maybe sometimes I could just help you out while we... discuss  _apples_ and a strategy for you know, talking down my old great-gramps." He quirked his eyebrows again. He wasn't signing up to be on the goddamn white-hat committee. Just a good night for fists and fangs, he could smell it. That and the Slayer blood's power coming off him in spades. "G'head, pet. Have an early night in."  _This wasn't going to be pretty._


	5. Chapter 5

     It was raining. Because of course it was raining. C on her Algebra test, lecture-city from Giles and of course, it was raining, so now Buffy was stomping through swampy, cemetery muck to kill vampires. Vampires who definitely didn't want to cross her tonight. Get it, cross me?  She could feel hair clinging to her face, loose, wet strands that needed deep conditioning and a good blow out. Could she at least sue the Council for hairdresser appointments? Buffy heard vamp-like growling on her left, and she side-stepped a few puddles to run towards the familiar noise, stake ready-as-ever.  
  
     "Spike?"   
  
     Buffy had ran around the edge of a grouping of headstones, to nearly run smack into Spike, not to mention two other vamps. And they didn't look exactly friendly. The word brawl came to Buffy's mind.  
  
     "Ah, just who I was hoping to see tonight. Nice weather, huh, pet?" He had smelled her coming, of course, even through all the rain. Dinner bells sang a happy tune in his head at the sight of her. "So get this, love. Here I am, minding my own business, and these two come poking around me looking for you. Now, I told 'em. You have a bloody nasty way with vamps, but do they listen? Ask him."  He tossed one vampire towards her, and focused his attention back on the other. Now this would be fun. There'd be three of them at the start, one being  young and quick work. Two remained, asking after the Slayer and calling Spike deeply unflattering names. Well, that just wouldn't do.  
      
     Buffy grabbed the vampire by the collar like Spike had, only she used his momentum against him to knock him into a tree. Well, this'll be over too quick, Buffy embarrassed herself by the thought and staked the vampire in the chest. The idea that she ever enjoyed the kill was still a lot for her to acknowledge most nights. Sure, she was built for it. Literally by destiny. That didn't mean she had to like it.  But hey, they could at least make it worth coming out for. She turned to see the second vampire still struggling with Spike, and decided it was time to spectate. She hadn't seen much of the merc mythos of William the Bloody so far.   
  
     "Really? I finally have the fanclub I've just been dreaming of?" Buffy crossed her arms, leaning back on the tree she'd formerly weaponized, and let herself watch. Spike was quick, his hands never stilled in the fight, and he was very clearly undermatched. With the other vampire down the ground, Spike continued punching for way, way longer than Buffy considered strictly necessary. "Okay, okay no need to get extracurricular, nice display of manhood." She tossed him the stake but in one fluid motion he caught it and threw it back, grabbing the barely-moving vampire by both sides of the head and snapping his neck into dust. Well....showy but effective?  
  
     "When I display my manhood you'll know it, pet." He appreciate the eyeroll she gave him. "So. Wanna grab a cuppa?" Still shaking off vamp dust, he faced her unaffected, and smoothed out his duster.   
  
     Buffy knew he'd be wanting blood. This time she'd thought about apples way in advance; she'd used her own finger pricker, a tool she'd swiped from the nurse's office at school. Tiny cut in her finger and lots of pinching and wincing later, she'd filled a to-go mug. A to-go mug that she was just realizing she'd left at home. Where she lived. With her mother and baby sister.   
  
     "Uh....so you can have your lunch....but you haveta wait here for delivery." She realized that she'd accidentally already started leading him toward her house. She turned down a wrong street on purpose after that, hoping he'd be just turned around and uninterested enough to not care where the Slayer lived. The rain had settled to a mist, a mist that Buffy  was positive was making Spike look even paler than his usual translucency. Not that she noticed. "Really, I insist."  
  
     "How do I know you'll come back, love?" He tried not to be annoyed that she was sticking to her deal of not drinking from her. She had to know he'd been thinning her patrol hauls, nearly every time he went out. Word was starting to get around that William the Bloody had himself a new client. He was trying to avoid that particular hum of public opinion as long as possible. An actual bite out of the Slayer could've been very worth it to him. And really, the end results were the same. He imagined her saying something to the tune of 'its icky' and then he'd just be pissed off all over again. "Fine, fine. Hurry your hide, it's hungry out here, Slayer."  
  
    Seeing her roll her eyes again and take off, Spike took a seat on a Sunnydale public bench and decided to wait to be brought his keep. Like some kind of lapdog. With extra pointy teeth, he reminded himself, taking in a whiff of the rainy, Sunnydale night. He swore to himself every other town in America looked the same, smelled the same, was the same. This one had a Slayer at least. And a Hellmouth, to boot. A Hellmouth he was supposed to be worried about, or something. 


	6. Chapter 6

     Buffy was looking down at herself, down at her body limp in Angel's arms. Tearful, his lips murmuring something she couldn't hear as hard as she tried to. Dropping her head to his hands, he kissed her cheek, sloppily, and lay her body back on the ground, hair splayed like a wet crown. Buffy only watched, panicked, starting to scream for him and herself, clawing at her own body to get it to stir but it wouldn't. It just wouldn't. Buffy  _felt_ herself starting to disappear......and then she woke up, gasping for air.   
  
     Wrapped in her soft sheets when her eyes shot open, and she felt her own chest instinctively; heart beat a flurry of fury and relief. The clock beside her said two am, but Buffy knew she wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight. Not any restful sleep anyway. The same dream had been haunting her for days now; always the same. She watched what could only be herself die, in Angel's arms, him cooing over her corpse like a lover saying goodbye. It was  _creepy_ and Buffy ruffled the comforter around herself wondering what it meant.   
  
    The thought came to her that at this time of night, there were probably plenty vampires out just waiting to be staked. But she'd just been  _off_ the last couple nights of patrolling. Making distracted mistakes, not being able to overpower as many vampires. She was almost-not-quite looking forward to her birthday on Saturday night, she had even considered floating the idea of a night off to Giles. But he'd been distracted lately, too and it seemed like a longshot, not to mention she wanted to get all the practice she could get in before...well, before the confrontation with the Master. Angel's face over her still body came to the front of her mind again, and  _well_ that settled it; she changed out of her pjs and grabbed her favorite stake.   
  
     A half smile crept to her face as she snuck out of her bedroom window. This was at least  _close_ to what normal seventeen year olds were supposed to be doing. Dodging their parents' curfew, not caring about school cause the prospect of graduation was looming near. Of course, Buffy was sneaking out to kill undead minions with her superpowers, but hey. The little things still made her smile when she reminded herself to let them. Her mom would try to ground her if she found out about this. And that felt nice cause it at least felt normal. Almost normal.   
  
    Sunnydale was quiet. Moon bouncing off the street, light breeze playing with Buffy's almost-bed-head, she was about to be glad she came out tonight.   
  
    "Little late for a stroll, love, in't it?"  _About to be._ Buffy could've jumped at the voice behind her, she wasn't sure she hadn't. As nice and peaceful as her town had been tonight, Buffy still felt a little too on edge. A little too  _wired_ and out of it for some reason.   
  
     "Duty never sleeps, Spike. A lot like the undead that way." She turned to face him, the moonlight in his hair daring her to laugh at him.    
  
      He promised he'd been trying to keep out of her hair all night, but that was only a half-truth. He could still taste her blood from the other night in the back of his throat. Once she'd delivered, he'd finished most of it in one go, but left a little for a snack on nights like tonight when he was feeling  _just a bit_ peckish. Leftovers weren't really the same, especially not the same as a kill, but her's were... acceptable.   
  
     "That all you think about, Slayer? Duty?" He openly laughed at her as they continued walking through the quiet streets of Sunnydale. He couldn't smell the sun coming yet, but knew it had to be way past her bedtime. Spike thought about asking her why she was out so late, why she looked like she hadn't slept in days, why she was really letting him feed off her. He thought about turning around and going home, spending this much time with clients, especially a Slayer, was usually a bad thing. Bad for business and bad for him. Instead his mouth surprised him in her silence. "Wanna see my world, Slayer?"   
  
      


	7. Buffy's Night Out

      “Well I’m certainly not putting _that_ in my mouth. I can smell it from here. And it’s a school night, you bad influence.” Buffy’s nose pinched at the smell of the beer in Spike’s hand. At some point Buffy let herself get dragged into a demon bar-to Spikes hilarity and her seemingly endless suffering. Things with hairy horns and extra eyes were out to play in full tonight and Buffy made sure to keep mentally checking her stowed stakes. She thought about Giles taking in the sights here, cracking open dusty texts classifying whatchamacallit monsters and who’s it type creatures. She definitely shouldn’t be here.   
  
     “I definitely shouldn’t be here.” Buffy talked through her teeth, breathing into Spike’s ear over the din of the place. For a fractional second he was reminded that usually he either bit or shagged or _both_ , girls that hushed their voices in his ear. But this was a client and the Slayer. The bloody Slayer.   
  
     “Probably right, love.” He swigged back two shots of fiery liquid with just a hint of a grimace and gestured the bartender over for another round. If he was drinking for himself and Buffy, he had some ground to cover. This bar had rapidly become one of his favorite nightlife spots in Sunnydale. All sorts of clients looking for muscle of his character, without the stones to disturb him with business while he attended his pleasure. He could appreciate that in a town. The sampling of Sunnydale’s female underbelly wasn’t disappointing, either; eyeing a brunette he’d had a few drinks with last week sometime, he grinned to himself.   
  
    Buffy’s eyes still surveyed what she could see of the dive from their place at the bar. Vamps on a hairdo sliding-scale from bad to worse to evil played pool and darts. The whole room smelled like Spike’s jacket; your average variety grandfather’s ashtray/urn cocktail combo. But the whole scene seemed so… oddly normal. And she thought she could spot a few humans in the crowd, even.   
  
     “There are _people_ that hang out in these places?” Buffy propped herself up arms-crossed against the bar’s top, brought close to Spike by the press of the crowd. Sunnydale nightlife rested for no school night.   
  
     “ _You’re_ here, aren’t you? Might do well to remember humans aren’t the only people. Especially on a Hellmouth, pet.” Spike wasn’t sure why that jab among her many hit his ear a tick too sharply. His glare had little bite though, and she wasn’t _apologetic_ so much as clearly annoyed by his attitude. Not to mention his drinking. _If he thinks I’m carrying unconscious vampire home…_   
  
     “I didn’t figure you for political. Human, yes, that’s what I meant. Why would humans hang out here? I’m not hanging out here I’m…. Keeping an eye on you.” Her chin jutted out, and he almost wanted to laugh. Of course she wouldn’t have fun here, the whole idea seemed bloody ridiculous now. _Buffy the Good_ was tarnishing her purity rating by entering their agreement; anything social was clearly delusional. He was about to protest that he didn’t need a whiny Slayer _babysitter_ , that he had brought her here with him-   
  
     But a large, green ~~man~~ thing interrupted, towering over them, casting a shadow over their spot at the bar. _Sodding hell_.   
  
     “Here to make good, Spike?” The _thing’s_ tone didn’t sound too friendly to Buffy. At her eye level she saw scales that made her skin crawl with _ick_.“You still owe me for losing me my best vampire help.”   
  
     Spike recognized the demon, Vragno, a low level baddie who fancied himself tough because he was house-shaped and smelled god-awful-rancid. Some vampires flocked to guys like that; the young, foolish ones looking for power and a name bigger than their teeth. Unlife was a good life, if you knew what you were doing. Spike had spent his eternity so far doing various sorts of nefarious things. Nefarious, enjoyable things. That he definitely, decidedly wanted to keep up.   
  
  
     “Oh, _actually_ , if you’re miffed about a couple dusty vamps, I’m really the one you should talk to.” She gave Green and Scaly her best LA prom queen smile, winning and fake. “How do you know my buddy Spike here?” She clamped her hand down around Spike’s shoulder, having him cursing her bony fingers he’d ever laid eyes on her or brought her in here in seconds flat.   
  
     “ _Slayer_.” Spike’s tone warned in her ear, but Buffy didn’t drop her smile. If he had been across the bar he knew he would've found it daring, attractive even. The Slayer had stones to rival her power; every once in awhile when she let the stick out of her arse. Buffy swore she could hear Spike rolling his eyes at her act.  
  
     “Slayer? A better vamp would’ve put you down, regardless of what spare coins you tossed at him. Or if he’s tossing _you_.” The demon's implication spoke for itself, but he spat unceremoniously at Spike's shoes. "You'll pay for losing me my men." His enormous arm grabbed at Buffy, as she slammed a glass from the bar over his face, slashing her own hand in the process of barely slowing him down and royally pissing him off.  Gripping both of her shoulders, he pulled her up and then tossed her to the floor. Wincing and rolling away for cover under a nearby table, Buffy reached for the legs of a chair to throw or break over him, but her hands stung with shards of glass and she was pulled along the floor by demons behind her.   
  
     "We've got the Slayer! We've got the Slayer!" A crowd of demons was beginning to form, adding to the chaos of the brawl. Kicking her legs out, Buffy scrambled to a corner; getting a bad, bad feeling.   
  
     Spike hadn't taken on a crowd this size in years. This was stupid, but it would be fun. It pissed him off to have to cross this place off his list of nightly Sunnydale haunts. But for what the Slayer was paying him...he could find other demon dumps. Taking the last swig of a beer, he spun to keep one eye on the Slayer fending for herself, bleeding just enough to make his mouth water.   
  
     "Oi! Hands off the clientele." He roared, head back, jumping into the fray, and went after Vragno, the Big, Green and Scaly. Snapping a barstool over the demon's head, Spike used splintered stool legs to stake vamps who had the misfortune of getting in his way. Buffy had whipped out stakes of her own, Spike saw dust flying as she bested vamps in succession. He could like her when she was angry with a vampire that wasn't himself.   
  
     Buffy heard Spike's howling and felt herself calm even in the throb of battle. She hadn't been sure he would actually back her up here. The odds weren't great, she admitted to herself as she kicked out at a demon with three eyes, sending him stumbling back against an oncoming vampire. But the odds improved if Spike helped her survive. That was why she had hired him, after all.    
  
     A thought struck Buffy as she slid her stake into another vampire's heart, casting dust all over her. She wasn't sure of the  _technicalities_ of prophecy, she would have to ask Giles, but if it was her  _destiny_ to face the Master and die at his hands...who in this bar could kill her? Something bit at her, as she found herself shoulder-to-shoulder with Spike. Was that even how destiny worked?  
  
     Spike was grinning from fang to fang. He could smell adrenaline radiating in waves from the Slayer, even through the fog of dust and smoke from the bar. They still had a lot of brawl to wade through, but some in the place had gone back to minding their own business already. A Slayer and her... Vampire mercenary were bigger headaches than some in this crowd could afford.   
  
     "Speaking of big and smelly, got you a present, Slayer." Spike had gone after Vragno again, this time pulling down the demon's head, throwing him off balance enough to toss him into a section of unoccupied tables on Buffy's left.   
  
     "You  _really, really_ shouldn't have." Buffy was having a harder and harder time focusing on the fight when the pain of glass in her hands persisted with a vengeance. She kicked at the still unsteady scaly Vragno, landing hard on his chest, curling her aching hands into fists  she could beat on his face. Her Slayer senses screamed furiously as she spun to see a vampire a  _split second_ before he crashed a table over her head, sending her to the floor in darkness. Spike howled her name, not Slayer, but her name, and Buffy's last thought was about the prophecy, how pissed off she was about that and how pissed off she was about this bar. And  _god,_ did Vragno smell terribly.   
  
  
  
  
  
      Barely awake for five minutes and Spike felt justified in wanting her unconscious again.  
  
      "I wake up in your crypt and you're  _licking_  blood off my cut up  _palms_ with your tongue and I'm  _overreacting?_ How long have I even  _been out_ they're going to think I'm  _dead_ not just an unwilling participant in Vampire Recipes Weekly. Are you  _out of your mind_ your tongue in my  _hands_ -"  
  
     "If you're quite finished, I could  _explain."_ Between last night's alcohol swirled brawl, and now the shrill  _yelling_ , Spike could swear he was getting a headache. He had dull aches all over his body, which was unusual, even for a brawl of last night's sizable nature. More Slayer blood would certainly help that, but he doubted she was feeling very giving. With the shrill yelling and all.   
  
     Buffy snatched a bandage from his outstretched hand and tended to her cuts now, which had begun to heal hideously.  _Probably a side effect of vampire saliva!_ Creeped out didn't even begin to cover the skin crawling grossness Buffy felt. Their deal ahd been he never got to feed _off_ of her, he mouth never touched her, there was a  _distance_ involved. Blood as payment of her choice and waking up to being someone's  _food_ were very different creatures.   _  
  
_"You were out cold, I fought us out by the skin of my sodding teeth, and I was just gonna patch up your palms, rouse you and send you on your way. You've been feeding me blood besides the point! And it's not like I had fangs out, Slayer. Saved your bloody life when all I wanted was a nice pint and a nice shag. You're lucky I don't up the price on our deal! You're lucky I didn't let you get snacked on in that demon pit while you were out for a nap!" He threw another bandage at her, letting it bounce off her chest. He was a _vampire_ , by nature. Merc was his profession but blood was his  _business_ , especially hers. The potent tang of sweet Slayer still lingered on his tongue and  _rot_ if he was going to feel guilty for that and  _helping_ her on top of it. Something about her blood tasted off to him, not  _quite_ right in a way he couldn't suss out from only the droplets he'd lapped from her injuries.   
  
    Furiously wrapping up her hands, Buffy let his voice bounce off the walls of his crypt but she swore she'd hardly been listening. She'd woken up a grey fuzz of pain and been snapped awake by realizing Spike's mouth was nuzzled into her hands. She hopped off the sarcophagus she had been apparently  _napping_ on, and flung open the door to the lair.   
  
     "You're  _unbelievable_ if you think this deal's still on. Stay away from me. I see you, I stake you. I mean it, Spike. Big bad creature of the night mercenary kills his own kind for what,  _food_ , might scare other people; follow  _me_ and you're dusty." The sun was out, barely up yet, stretched across the cemetery as Buffy left.   
  
     Spike called after her, trapped for at least the rest of the day, but she never so much as turned around and offered him a second glance, which for some reason enraged him more. Sometimes clients terminated contracts, they back pedaled their deals, and sometimes they just didn't feel like paying. You couldn't always get upset about that, people do as they like. Waffling on William the Bloody wasn't generally a very good idea.   
  
     He didn't quite theorize the Slayer's threats of staking as a joke, or something she'd say emptily.   
  
     Still, he threw empty liquor bottles at the walls of the crypt, trashing the place more than it had been. Rage seethed in Spike for a reason he didn't care to attempt to explain. And then Spike felt something  _different_. He felt suddenly  _weak,_ his vision spotty.


	8. Birthday Surprise

     Nighttime Parent Teacher Conferences. The welcome banner was hanging crooked across the campus gates; not that Spike felt especially welcome. He felt pissed off, for about a million reasons he could easily list if asked, and he felt like skipping town. If the Slayer wanted to throw a tantrum and get herself killed, really who was he to stop her? Walking into the high school's double doors he mentally cursed stepping foot in Sunnydale. He could think of half a dozen other jobs in other cities, other  _countries_ he could be working on. None of them involved Hellmouths or stubborn Slayer bints, or this damn headache. But he needed to talk to her, and he was desperate enough to seek out the high school parent teacher night. Spotting the Slayer and a redhead handing out brochures, he smiled to himself for a moment, head tilted. Surrounded by snacks and he only had eyes for one among them. Well, one or two. There was a brunette at the door he wouldn't have said no to a bite of.   
  
     Buffy clacked her heels over to him, reminding herself she couldn't stake him in public. She cut off his path to Willow, and lead him roughly by the wrist to an empty corridor of the high school.   
  
     "So when I said 'stay away from me' you apparently heard 'stalk harder.'  _What_ do you think you're doing here? If you're hungry go order a rare steak. Or you know, just wait for someone to get a _papercut._ " Buffy tried to keep her voice hushed, even though she still felt like screaming at him. She had actually skipped the last two nights of patrolling, admitting to herself that it wouldn't solve anything with Spike but truthfully she had wondered if he'd just go away. Disappear kind of like Angel, out into the night. And it hadn't only been about avoiding Spike. The last few days Buffy felt worse, she felt...Sicker.  _Off_ somehow, like she had the other night. Weaker and easily tired out. Giles had brushed her off, so she reasoned she was being unreasonable. Buffy considered telling him about the agreement with Spike, the barfight, the serious breach of their  _agreement_ , but that would've involved telling him she'd been lying for weeks. And that made her feel even sicker.   
  
     "If I were you, love, I'd watch your tone. While I was working for you I might've been a weapon at your side, but if you're serious about terminating that I could be a  _real_ pain in the ass for you, pet." Spike smiled her face just breaths away, and snatched back his wrist from her hand, noticing the scarring on her palms.  _Balls._ "When's your birthday?" He was still snarling, still pissed, still half confused why he was still in Sunnydale. But he saw her swallow angry questions even as her scowl remained. And oh, if looks could stake. Remembering something his mother said about faces getting stuck like that for eternity, he could've almost laughed.   
  
     "Really? _Now_ you're looking for a party invite? I really think we've partied quite  _enough_ for mortal enemies, don't you?  _Saturday_ I turn eighteen. Now why are you at my  _school?_ Where my friends, my mom, oh my  _Watcher_ are." Buffy was hissing through her teeth, still looking into Spike's face with anger she felt rippling through her. Anger and confusion and a drop of fear. If they fought here Buffy wasn't sure she could over power him tonight, especially not discreetly. Not to mention the principal was already on her case about well...everything.   
  
    "Exactly, your bloody Watcher. Look, Slayer I'm not here for blood, but I need to talk to you  _about_ it. Something's going on. The other night when I...." He knew  _nibbled_ would drive her starkers. It was tempting. "Dressed your wounds after saving your  _sodding_   _life_ like you pay me to...you tasted odd." Spike heard footsteps near the corridor, then go as they came. Place crawling with nervous heartbeats of tardy teens and straight C students having their parents' Ivy League dreams crushed to dust. He shook his head at the idle stupidity of being mortal in this town. If Buffy's death was as prophesied as she feared, they'd all have more immediate and painful problems than whether or not Billy Junior passed sophomore English. Spike sucked a tooth for a second, and then released a breath. "I think you've been poisoned, love."   
  
    The entire room felt eerily still to Buffy for a second; she reminded herself to breathe. She reminded herself to blink. The world on pause; muted and distorted until further notice. Spike could hear fear as only a stutter in her pulse.  
  
    " _Poisoned?"_ Buffy tried to shrug off the gross feeling that settled in her chest, replacing her anger for the moment. Wasn't it bad enough her death had a schedule now she had to worry about Spike complaining about the taste of her blood? "I've been feeling...And then that fight... Who would even poison me? Vamps I slay don't exactly have that kind of access to my food or whatever. And my baby sister can hold a grudge but I don't think eighth grade bio lets her handle arsenic, exactly."   
  
    Buffy wasn't sure how much longer she could be away from the table before her mom, or Snyder, or even Willow came looking for her. She forced herself to think about that, about the rest of the world waiting for her. On her. The word  _poisoned_ just kept rattling around in her brain. Maybe  _poisoned_ would be a good enough explanation for her C in Algebra. The staggering dichotomy of her double life was about to catch up to her. Spike here, her life here... _Poisoned._ Death was clinging to her, taunting her, she could  _hear_ it. Who cared about Algebra when her mom could be burying her soon? Was  _that_ a good enough excuse?  
   
     Spike watched the Slayer struggling internally, her eyes no longer meeting his, but beyond. Fearful, spinning calculation he thought he could put a stop to, if she would only give him the chance.   
  
     "I'll wait for you outside your house tonight, we'll suss it all out at the crypt, yeah?" He felt guilty to startle her out of her thoughts, but he heard people coming and he found himself supremely needing to be elsewhere. Part of his job, if he still had it, was to keep her alive. Having her wander around meeting him at night wouldn't make his job easier, Spike thought to himself. For the first time in a long time Spike thought of Drusilla, his Sire. Once they'd lived a charmed life inside her madness; he could remember calming her in a fit, stroking her hair. The memory sparked an impulse that Spike in the present didn't have much difficulty fighting off. But even as it went he thought of stroking Buffy's hair to calm her, to ground her. A different Spike might have, he figured.   
  
     "How do you know where I live?" Focused glare turned murderous in a second, flashes of flickering threat power and protection in her eyes.  
  
     "Followed you, of course. I'll see you tonight." Ushering her back out the hallway, Spike's hand hovered near Buffy's elbow, guiding them both through the crowded mess. He could hear her breathing, even above all the others' her body stood out to him, speaking to him clearly and directly. She was still shaken, still wracked, still  _odd_ and yet she still stood and faced all ahead of her. Of course, with his help. He hoped he hadn't just invited her back to his crypt to stake him. Stepping away, and then stepping back, Spike leaned into Buffy purposefully, lips nearly to her ear. "Don't be alone with the Watcher."   
  
    A tight nod was all that escaped Buffy. She couldn't believe Giles of all people had anything to do with her not feeling well. Probably just a bug, like Giles had said in the first place.   
  
     "Don't think this means you're forgiven!" Buffy called after him. She wanted to laugh at how out of place a Billy Idol leather-clad, so-called vampire mercenary looked in the mess of suburban Sunnydale socialites and soon-to-be socialites. If Sunnydale was allowed the duplicity, why shouldn't she? 


	9. Chapter 9

          “Sorry, love. Don’t exactly have a gleaming record with the Council of Wankers.” They were sitting in the crypt, shrouded in darkness, and even then Spike could see the color drained from Buffy’s face. Youthful color gone, replaced by still anxiety and tired-feeling. Her hands clenched and unclenched; always uncertain about how to react, how to let herself react. Strong instincts weren’t always a blessing; strong didn’t always technically mean ’correct.’ Giles undoubtedly had a scripted lecture on that, Buffy figured.

         She knew she had no reason to trust Spike for a half-second, no reason to believe his story whatsoever; and she feared that’s why she did. Or feasibly _could_ believe his story. Once, she thought the worst thing she could do as a Slayer was feeding Spike; that seemed so long ago to Buffy, now. Now she was meeting him at night for a history lesson. Maybe she could tell Giles she blamed the drugs. _Ha._

        Spike was constantly in auction, swaying to the tune of the highest bidder. Today, that was Buffy. But at some point, some point during the 80’s according to Spike, that had been the Watcher’s Council.

       “I met a man about a girl. New York City was a _right_ rotten apple then, sowed with bad seeds; more nasties out than probably most of your world realized. Of course, wicked fun for the wicked and all that. But there was also a Slayer, to ruin our nasty fun.” Spike wasn’t sure how honest he could afford to be, given the Slayer’s short fuse with him recently. But he wouldn’t lie. _Just winning back the client and trying not to get staked in the back for it._ “I didn’t ask why. Suppose she wasn’t being so dutiful; I think she had a sprog. People can’t have two top priorities, pet. We fought off and on for awhile. Proper powerful in her own right, a bit older than you though, I suppose. Her blood…” Spike cleared his throat and contemplated how to proceed. Storytime-with-Spike was a daft notion to consider, and here it was happening.  “I knew after the fact, that she’d been weakened. Like you, pet. I was cocked up about besting a Slayer and to find out she wasn’t top game… Well, sure from your side you don’t see it insulting in that way but…” He lit a cigarette and angled himself away from Buffy, leather duster squeaking in the movement. No way in Sunnyhell he was telling her about taking the coat off the girl. Not lying and begging to be killed were two different animals. Regardless of the state the Slayer was in. “English wankers that hired me… didn’t take too long to figure out all the nasty details. Don’t think they ever paid me in full. An old friend said they came looking for me after I cleared out. No doubt to stake me, too. Bastards.”

      Spike exhaled his cigarette smoke, waiting for her to hear him. Every once in awhile, Spike thought of Nikki Wood, the Slayer. When Buffy was resourceful in a fight, or when someone complimented his jacket. It was his nature to assume he would have bested her anyway eventually, drugged or not. But rarely, he wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t been sent to the slaughter by her own mates.

     Buffy felt _tired_. Enemies to fight every night, ’friends’ like Spike she couldn’t trust, how could she lose Giles, too? Giles was old faithful, he was Mr. Duty, he was reliable! Perfectly count-on-able to clean his glasses on cue, or purse his lips at her grades. Train with her every day, quiz her on Slayerlore; which had apparently been lacking all of its unseemingly details. He’d offered her a ride home from the high school, remarking in the meanwhile how she was being ’awfully quiet.’ Not to mention, it wasn’t like she could tell her mom or Dawn about what was bothering her. It was all just too exhausting. Too much and not enough all at the same time.

     “I don’t want to die.” Buffy managed to squeak out, after long minutes of what must have been silence. It was the only thing she could think of. Hiring Spike in the first place had been about survival. Of course he knew she didn’t want to die.

     “That’s… that’s real good, pet.” For his life Spike couldn’t figure why it was good for him. He was still shocked she wasn’t staking him for taking out a weakened sister Slayer. Wasn’t the first time he’d taken money from both sides, he figured. It usually didn’t go this well. Spike felt fidgety, he was itching for something. A good fight and a good pint, sort of like the other night, would do. Buffy sat straight, staring straight. If Spike couldn’t have heard her heartbeat steady, he might have checked her pulse.  

     “I don’t want to die, but I wanna be the Slayer.”  When she spoke again, she sounded sure. It didn’t make her popular, it didn’t make her friends; it didn’t even make Buffy feel particularly important. The Slayer mantle was cyclical and impersonal. There would always be a Slayer, even if it wasn’t her. Another girl called to her place, another girl to take over her fight. To kill the Master. To save the world. To get poisoned by her Watcher. Did the poison take away her Slayer powers by design? Would they come back? Even now she felt weak; what she figured was normal to everyone else. That feeling made her sad, made her angry, made her realize she wanted to be the Slayer. She’d faced monsters kids didn’t even know to be afraid of. She’d saved the world before. And she would again.

  
  
     


	10. Chapter 10

          “So you know the plan, right?” Buffy was whispering across the stacks of the Sunnydale library. She didn’t even know why she had agreed to let Spike come. Being close to Giles had been giving her the wigs all week, though. Parent Teacher on Tuesday, and things had sort of… escalated since Spike’s storytime. Things were awkward with the Scoobies and she couldn’t keep avoiding how sick she felt, about Giles and otherwise. Her whole body felt achey, felt worse, and she needed to know why. Buffy still couldn’t be sure this was right, or the right way to go about it. She was sure Giles wasn’t entirely culpable for any of this, if he was even involved at all. But she had to _be_ sure and that’s why Spike was here. Just an extra set of eyes, Buffy told herself.  
  
     “I play hide and seek til the Watcher does something naughty. I’m not _daft_ , I was listening the first twenty eight times.” He ground his teeth and ducked back behind a shelf of books. Spike was quite convinced the Watcher was involved, he _tasted_ it. But if he was ever going to taste Slayer blood again, he needed to listen to her plan and watch her back. Again, he found himself at the high school, on edge and hungry. Somehow this was all her fault.  
  
    Buffy sat at the library’s desk and tried to look casual. But that was the problem with trying to look casual, it was practically impossible. Spike was standing behind the medieval times’ books, which could have made her laugh, and it was five to six. Five minutes before Giles had asked her to meet him here. They were supposed to be going over Slayer studies; Giles’ insistence she was supposed to be trying to focus on different types of magic people might use against her. Even though she really wanted to be studying the Master. But it wasn’t a topic they breached easily, especially since Buffy didn’t know if she could trust Giles anymore. Tomorrow she turned eighteen, and she thought about how other kids her age got to be excited. But mostly she just wanted a break. _Maybe a manicure_ ; she bit a fingernail with just a speck of chipped polish.  
  
     “Spike. What if I’m just not supposed to be the Slayer? What if I’m looking too hard because I don’t wanna be normal even if I just am?” The tiny whisper Buffy let escape barely resonated in the library, before Giles came sweeping in the swinging doors.  
  
     Behind the stacks, Spike couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Giles’ entrance. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing, and he felt sorry for her either way. Or something that felt like sorry for her.  
  
     “Buffy, you’re… on time, this is a pleasant surprise.” Giles turned his back to her, gathering supplies from the corner of the library. He took out crystals and dust-covered books, and placed them down in front of her. She tried to notice everything about him, if he was acting particularly strange, particularly un-Giles-ish. But nothing struck her as odd; just regular Giles. Books and Slayer studies. Concerned with promptness.  
  
      “Hey, you know what they say about tardiness.” _You should never be late to your own poisoning,_ she bit back, reminding herself that Giles wasn't guilty, yet. She touched a long green crystal and fiddled with it in her hands. It was reflective, pretty… distracting. She reminded herself to focus on Giles; to focus, there was supposed to be something off about him, something she was supposed to be afraid of, on guard about. Trying to bring her attention back to him, she still felt lost in the walls of the sparkling emerald glass. Drawing a long breath, she let herself relax for stretched out minutes, looking into the mirrors of the stone-  
  
     “ _Slayer_.” Spike shook her shoulder hard twice, and she bounced up. Blinking, the green of the crystal faded as Buffy became alert again. Still feeling unsure of what happened, she took note of Spike standing between her and Giles. Giles, who was thrown back against a bookshelf, he was recovering; fixing his glasses and looking appalled.  
  
     She still felt slow, felt the sting of a needle Spike pulled from her arm, gently but quickly; still full of amber liquid, leaving an angry splotch in its place. Well; she had wanted to be _sure_.  
  
     “Buffy- I, Buffy-” Giles was standing again, still looking unsteady, but standing. He backed against the bookshelf as his Slayer stepped towards him, the stranger she’d been hiding the bookshelves smelling the needle. This wasn’t procedure. “Buffy, you don’t understand why-”  
  
     For a minute she charged towards him, ready to strike; to slap or punch or throw him across the room. Anger bubbled in her, but betrayal won out; disappointment won out, worst fears entertained all in a second. And she froze.  
  
     “I don’t want to understand why. _What_ did you do to me? You knew for days; you sent me out there to be a good little Slayer, knowing I wasn’t at full strength, knowing why. Knowing! Giles... what did you do? Am I even the Slayer?" Days of uncertainty and anxiety and  _sickness_ ruptured, tears filling Buffy's eyes like she hated. She bit her lip to stop it from shaking; this was just all too messed up, this couldn't be happening.    
  
     "Buffy, you must know I would never let anything happen-"  
  
      "You're gonna want to answer her questions, mate. Doesn't look like she feels too patient, does it? I can tell you I don't." Spike interrupted from behind Buffy, sitting atop the table now, waiting for his moment. He was sure the drug was the same that had been in the other Slayer's blood. It smelled  _toxic_ and powerful to him.   
  
     Giles balked for a second, looking to Buffy in silence but she didn't meet his eyes. He noticed her tears and he couldn't find the right words to  _explain_ , if he could just  _explain._    
  
     When Buffy looked back to Spike, her eyes caught on the needle, on the kit on the table that she hadn't remembered Giles even taking out. Her eyes caught on the needle that had been in her  _arm_ without her even realizing. Her breath hitched again and she wiped tears from her chin, mad at Giles, mad at Spike just  _because,_ and mad at herself.   
  
     "It's... it's nothing very severe," Giles saw Buffy flinch and he made sure to stand back before continuing. "It's a sort of injectable... _flu_ , for Slayers, almost. Your reflexes are dulled, your strength conditional; well, you know the symptoms, I suppose." Giles struggled with keeping his voice, the way Spike was staring him down, and the way Buffy wasn't. "On their eighteenth birthday Slayers are given what's called a Cruciamentum; a sort of rite of passage, where Slayers' strength and physical abilities are lessened and they are given a test. Usually up against a powerful vampire, where they... Buffy you must believe me, I have the utmost faith in your abilities to pass this test. I would never allow your life to be in real danger. As your Watcher this is the most unpleasant part of my job;  the effects of the drug are temporary, of course, you are the Slayer, nothing can change that." Giles leaned back against the bookcase, watching Buffy struggle with his words. His Slayer was in pain  _because_ of him, he'd hurt  _Buffy_ , but he had to. From the beginning their relationship had been unconventional, because Buffy herself wasn't the conventional Slayer. But the Cruciamentum wasn't something he had the authority to disregard, no matter how barbaric it personally felt to him.  _Personal_ wasn't ever meant to be part of the equation, as much as that sounded in Giles' head like his father.   
  
    "Except death, of course. That has a way of changing things." Spike had packed away the needle, deciding Buffy didn't need to see it again the way she had been staring. "Pumping the Slayer full of drugs, pretending to be faultless....and  _you're_ supposed to be her ally." Spike scoffed. Those years ago when he'd worked with the Watcher's Council unwittingly, he'd took the pay with glee. He'd almost bragged about killing a Slayer, if he would've had anyone to brag to back then, of course. But he'd tasted the untainted  _power_ of a Slayer, there was something intimate in that to him; even if it hadn't been intimacy through biting. "Bang up gig you've got running there, Watcher. Maybe if you get the girl killed you'll get an early holiday."  
  
    Giles blinked and reeled at the malice he was being accused of. The Cruciamentum  _was_ part of a series of trials for Slayers, Buffy no different than the previous line just because she was his charge. She needed to understand that.   
  
    "I beg your pardon, who are you and what is my Slayer a concern to you?" 


	11. Chapter 11

     Okay, so storming out on Giles  _and_ Spike probably hadn't been the best idea. Deep breaths weren't working, Buffy felt cornered and trapped, and betrayed. Slayers slay and Watchers...sabotage? Lie? Poison you? Make you feel delusional, like you got all the bad parts of destiny, and none of the good?   
  
    Giles had been stammering after her; Buffy could still hear the swing of the library doors over Giles' repeated calls of her name, and all of his English pleading echoing through the hallways of the high school. It made her feel sick to think about; to wonder about all the other Slayers the Council might have hurt or killed even. Let alone that  _all_ of them had been drugged at some point, betrayed by their only supposed allies in the world, in the name of some test of  _worthiness._  She was supposed to be bright-eyed and psyched about that? Giles had said choice few words about the Council as her Watcher, and maybe now Buffy knew why. Maybe there weren't any good things to say about them. For a second she wondered whether Spike would hurt Giles; if Giles would try to hurt Spike. She wished she could just get a minute to breath, a pause, a timeout. There had just been no air in the room. Buffy knew it was a bad idea to bring Spike to the school at night, to make the deal with him at all, even from the beginning way back at the Bronze. She remembered purposefully choosing to hire him, even when she felt bad about it. Maybe that's how it was for Giles. Maybe they just weren't on the same team like she had thought.   
  
    Taking the long way down Revello, Buffy could see the light on on her front porch. Her normal house, with her normal family, normal normal _normal..._ Normal front door off its' normal looking hinges.   
  
    Full sprint, or as full as she could sprint still being  _poisoned_ , Buffy got to the front door of her home to find the nightmare was real her house had been... robbed? Ransacked? Throw pillows were thrown, lamps were broken... nothing looked missing, though. Nothing material.  
  
    "Mom? Dawn?  _Mom?"_ Reminding herself not to panic was difficult. What if this was the Council, too? Some kind of Slayer punishment for not obeying the Slayer rules. "Dawnie, are you here? Are you okay? Mom? Mommy?" Buffy could feel her pulse jumping and her palms sweating. Stepping carefully throughout the trashed house was hard. The little tingle in her head that told her when something wasn't right was going haywire; none of this was  _right._ Her family was gone, no trace in sight, and Buffy was fighting to keep her lower lip from quivering. If she had taken the fast way home.. if she had come home earlier....  
  
    Buffy grabbed extra stakes, extra weaponry; if she wasn't at full Slayer strength she had to be careful. Her whole family depended on it. She heard a car pull up outside, and ducked into the kitchen, heavily armed.  
  
    "Buffy?" Giles sounded concerned, frightened even, and that didn't comfort Buffy a stitch.   
  
    "If you've hurt my family- Dawnie-" Buffy started out to the front door, stake pointed and furious; tears tempting her again.  
  
    "I know where they are." Giles had his hands raised, trembling in surrender and worry. He was sorry, dreadfully sorry, not sorry enough, but that had to come later.   
  
    For one more surprise of the evening Buffy didn't know what to do with, Spike was in the backseat of Giles' car, smoking and looking undusted and visibly unsettled. He watched her climb in the passenger seat, too many stakes for him to be completely comfortable, and the three of them sat in uncomfortable silence for a beat. Buffy hated it the entire time. Her head was spinning, this was all so much. Too much. Like it had been at the library, only now there was nowhere to escape to. No way out that she could think of that would feasibly work out any sort of well and good.   
  
    "We'll save your mum, Slayer." Spike stirred her from her thoughts and Giles cleared his throat, still unsure about roughly one million things. Spike had explained very little in the library after Buffy's abrupt departure, and Giles had explained even less. Apparently a plan had been arranged, by the Council. A plan that involved the Slayer's mom and kid sister.   
  
    "Oh, I'm getting them back. I don't care  _who_ I have to kill." Buffy's teeth bared in defiance at the thinly veiled threat tossed at Giles. That didn't do much to ease  _his_ mind, but Buffy couldn't be concerned with that now.   
  
     Giles slowed the car in front of the cemetery, one of Buffy's regular patrol spots. Usually it was quiet, a lot of vamps knew to stay out of her territory by now. The ones that strayed in to cause trouble, never caused her trouble twice. At that moment, getting out of the car and gathering her weapons, gathering her thoughts, Buffy doubted. Buffy doubted in fate, she doubted in destiny, she doubted in herself; in  _good_. Why should she protect a world that hurt her family? That hurt her? Why should she work for a Council that didn't care if she lived or died? Or a Watcher who lied to her when he was the only one she could trust? That moment seemed to move in slow motion, Buffy deciding everything and nothing at once. The world in suspended, slow consequence, answering for its' actions and asking all the wrong things of her. None of it would matter if she couldn't protect Dawn and their mom. When the world reentered animation, Buffy was ready for it. She was ready for the spin of the Earth to catch up to her, and vowed it wouldn't knock her down.   
  
   "Whatever's in there, Spike, get my mom and Dawn out. I don't care who you kill, I don't care what you want after. You and Giles are extraction; whoever has them, whoever took them, wanted my attention and I want them to have that." Buffy looked at Spike in a way that threw him; her eyes were cold and distant, jaw set now where it had threatened to tremble before. Not for the first time, Spike was glad he wasn't fighting against her. Giles watched an exchange between the two of them that puzzled him; Buffy handing stakes and pointed looks at Spike as the three of them prepped for battle. Giles couldn't be sure what they were facing, and he was sorry and proud all at once, for the change he could see in Buffy's face. The Slayer commanded the girl, in the width of her shoulders and the curl of her fingers around a stake, he watched her lead their army of three into the cemetery like a seasoned front lines general at war.   
  
    Spike pointed ahead, where he could hear stuttered heartbeats in a disturbed mausoleum. A stake in each hand, Buffy's eyes lingered over the stone face of the chambers, angels along it's top mocked her. Kicking in the wooden door, Spike certainly asserted his subtlety-deficiency again, and Buffy rolled her eyes away from the offending angels. Giles filed in with the crossbow next, and Buffy followed bringing up the rear. Her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit and seriously-in-need-of-vacuuming crypt, following Spike and Giles down a set of stairs.  
  
    At the bottom Spike could hear two heartbeats, and a few sets of footsteps milling around the stone floors. 


	12. Chapter 12

     Spike hurried a frightened and crying girl of maybe twelve, Buffy's kid sister he could assume, out of the mausoleum, along with the Slayer's mom, wouldn't stop thanking him between sobs. A month ago he should've made them a tasty snack and now, one impulsive deal with a girl later, he was saving the Slayer's kin. The Slayer. His deal's real priority was her life, and she was at less than full strength battling a big nasty, alone. Giles was unconscious, Spike  _carried_   _him out_ to Joyce and the Lil Bit, still unsure about why. If the Slayer wanted her Watcher dead, he supposed she'd deal with him herself. Once Joyce, Dawn and Giles were outside the mausoleum, Spike closed the door behind him and hurried back down the steps to the catacomb of dark underground. Met with growling vampire stooges, Spike looked for Buffy while he fought off a flurry of fists and fangs.  _Time to thin the herd, then._  
  
     Buffy was running through a series of tunnels, she couldn't be sure where, through mausoleums and tombs, a large vampire named Kralik giving her chase. She'd gone with the plan, go after the big fangs while Spike and Giles get Dawn and her mom out. She'd lost sight of the others, she hoped they were okay in the group of Kralik's minions she was running from now. He'd wailed on her for a bit, she didn't want to admit she missed her strength as much as she did. Losing her footing in the damp tunnel, Buffy punched up, clawing at Kralik's face and eyes. He'd been the one to go after her family, to make it way personal; Buffy promised it'd be his mistake. Punching Kralik back, Buffy breathed a second, still feeling the effects of near mortal strength. Catching a flurry of blonde hair and leather far down the tunnel, Buffy could at least hope her family was safe. She was bleeding, into her eye, she thought, and she struggled to keep moving away from Kralik, away from what felt like certain death.   
  
     Kralik grabbed Buffy roughly by the shoulder, lifting her off the ground- a sensation she decidedly didn't care for. Twisting in his grip and kicking out, Buffy lost her grip on her stake, but managed to free herself from Kralik's steel grasp, pushing him back and running with every force she could muster. Kralik was big, but he was slow in the cramped tunnels and gravesites, and he kept shouting about medicine and family and how many different ways he was going to kill her. None of them sounded good to Buffy. Spike heard the clatter of a stake and yelling, and after promptly snapping the neck of a female minion he'd been grappling with for several minutes, he dove for the next, determined to fight his way to Buffy. He was sure he could smell her blood, and that felt like a bad sign.   
  
     Clamoring to a corner of a mausoleum, Buffy heard Kralik making his way to her, panic thrumming through her chest uncomfortably. It felt wrong and icky, but she hid. Hunkered down behind a sarcophagus, Buffy wiped her tears, and the back of her hand came away bloody. Kralik's yelling about needing to take his medicine gave Buffy an idea, and with a deep breath, she left her hiding place momentarily to make a last effort for her life.   
  
    "My medicine-" Kralik stumbled around the tomb, picking up the vial she'd left him. "I smell your blood, Slayer. Soon I'll have a taste- or should I save you for dessert- for after I'm done picking your precious little family from my teeth." He found Buffy, curled into a sarcophagi, and dragged her out by the neck, pressing her to a wall, windpipe just beneath his thumb. In his other hand, he held the clear glass vial, and Buffy could only struggle against his hand and  _hope;_  trying to scream without air. With a big swig of the vial, Kralik swallowed his pill, and then his expression changed, eyes bulging wide, hand still holding Buffy up, stifling her breathing.   
  
     Spike came running, tired of hearing Kralik's taunts, tired of staking Kralik's minions, and tired of Kralik. He crashed into the bigger vampire, throwing him back, freeing Buffy to slide to the floor coughing. She gasped for air, and grasped at the leather hem of his coat, drawing Spike's attention away from Kralik. She was still coughing for air, her throat raw and her body aching. But she was alive. Kralik wouldn't be for long; he screamed wildly, doubled over in pain in front of them.   
  
     "What did you do to me? What have you  _done?_ " The vampire howled, manic and wild.   
  
    Kneeling to Buffy's level, Spike smoothed knotted hair back from her face, and saw the hell of a fight she'd put up.   
  
    "If I was at full Slayer power, I'd be punning right about now." From her pocket, Buffy pulled a Holy Water label and eyed the vial she'd let Kralik think would help him with his medicine. Buffy and Spike watched as Kralik smoked, and turned to ash, his screams of agony finally falling silent. Spike marveled at her for a second; even weakened, even beaten, even alone, she'd won.   
  
    It was done. Spike helped Buffy to her feet, her arm over his shoulder all the way up to the mouth of the mausoleum, where Joyce, Dawn, and an ill-looking Watcher met them.   
  
     Placing an exhausted Buffy in Giles' car as gently as possible, Spike buckled the belt, said goodnight to the Lil Bit and the Slayer's mum and Watcher. Buffy's adrenaline subsided, and she looked drained; of color, of life, tired of fighting. Eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and bruising and tears Spike held his breath to keep from smelling, Buffy looked up at Spike in a way that made him feel like squirming or shouting at her or  _something_.  
  
     Buffy, the girl, had saved the Slayer. He knew that. He'd seen it. It'd been a hard fought battle, and hard won.   
  
    "Thank you, Spike." She touched his hand through the open car window with a softness Spike hadn't even glimpsed in decades.   
  
     The blood on her face and hands, the shadows of exhaustion and the crack of her voice shook him; Joyce drove the party away, and Spike stood on the sidewalk, watching them drive away, missing the smell of Buffy's shampoo with only one thought in his head.  _Balls._


	13. Chapter 13

     Like any night worth un-living, Spike found himself in a fight. Rumors had been circulating about William the Bloody throwing his lot in with the Slayer, and it wasn't doing wonders for his popularity in Sunnydale. However, it did make for some pretty good fights.   
  
     As far as he knew, Buffy had spent at least one night in the hospital, and he supposed the next three resting. Scarcely expecting to see her tonight, he was surprised when she pulled an attacking vamp off of him.   
  
     "Looking spry, Slayer," He remarked, getting to his feet and watching her land blows to the vampire's face.   
  
     "Hey, I've felt worse." She punched the vamp again, and then landed her stake home. As hard as being the Slayer was, Buffy landed the stake and felt  _better_ for being better. Knowing the evils of the world, she wanted to be what stopped it. Even just this one vampire.   
  
     When she turned to him, Spike saw most of the other night's battle had faded from her face, at least. Bruising on her hands and the lightest scratch above her right eye were all that seemed left.   
  
     "So everything's all right at home, then?" He lit a cigarette, leaning back on a grave.   
  
     "Oh yeah, barrels of fun times." Buffy sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm just glad they're okay. Even if they keep waiting on me and haven't let me patrol."  
  
     So she'd stayed in the extra nights on account of Joyce. Made sense to Spike; the Slayer's family had been confronted with the very thing the world sent their Buffy to contend with.   
  
     "Thank you, you know. For being extraction guy with Giles and getting me out of there." She dared a look at him,  _finally_ , he breathed, and there was still something uneasy in her face. Truthfully, any regrets Buffy had battled over a deal with Spike were pretty settled now. She owed him her family's lives- she wasn't going to forget that. Even if the stink of cigarettes was starting to cling to her clothes.   
  
     "What about the Watcher?" Spike saw Buffy wince, even as he tried to keep the edge of out his voice for the man. It wasn't so much Giles, even. Bad taste in his mouth from the Watcher Council, men who had stiffed him and lied to him, and hired him in false pretense, to do something awful to a girl remarkably like Buffy. Also, it was Giles.   
  
     "Guess who had a big-fun intervention from a certain English council?" She groaned. "They ex-watchered him and I think it's gonna kill him. I know he had to... do what he did, but, I can't be okay with it, yet, you know?" Buffy's skin crawled thinking about Spike shaking her out of a tranced state where Giles had been drugging her. "But doesn't mean I want him, you know, not my Watcher. I don't know." She shrugged.   
  
     The Slayers Spike knew had been warriors trained to spar, and battle, and trust their Watchers, not forgive or contemplate morality. His limited knowledge of the Watcher's Council felt like they assumed the Slayer, the girl, to be a weapon they pointed at the dark of the world. The furrow in Buffy's brow threatened that notion.   
  
     "Happy birthday, by the way." He brushed his fingers through his hair, cigarette tossed, and tried to lighten the mood.   
  
     "Mmm yeah. I got to survive and everything." Buffy said dryly, beginning to feel an awkwardness between them she'd never picked up on before.   
  
     Her eyes cast down, he looked at her and figured she sort of  _looked_ older. A more serious breath of life in her than when they'd first met. All that false bravado turned true, and all that posturing turned to a changed nature.   
  
     "I should... probably keep patrolling." Buffy hadn't really even started yet and it was already getting late; she was worried her mom was staying up for her, and she was worried about her mom in general.   
  
     "Right. I can, help, luv, if you've not got your full strength, yet." Rushing his words, he brought himself up off the tombstone.   
  
     "Actually..." She made a face of contemplation again. "Would you mind just..." She braced herself. "I  _have_ to be the Slayer. I need to go patrol, and stop people from getting eaten, and get the nasty demon goo on my pants.  _Not_ being the Slayer isn't... I  _want_ to do this. Would you mind just-  _loitering_ or something around my house, just until I get I get back? I could, give you your blood then, it'd be really economical for you, and everything I just..."  
  
      She hadn't been there when her family had been hurt and taken, and she wasn't in a rush to see her family home empty and ransacked again.   
  
     "'Course. I'm sure they'll be fine, Slayer, and I'll make sure of it myself." Uneasy faded from her face, perplexing him a bit. "For the blood, and all," He reminded her, nodding, and she nodded, too.   
  
     "I'll be as quick as possible," She knew it was insane, asking a vampire to watch her family from... other vampires. It wasn't  _trust , _she reminded herself. She was paying him for protection, and if she could get a little extra out of the deal, well. Why not? Her memories of the other night were bloodstained and tired but she remembered her mother talking about Spike. She remembered Dawn saying how he got them out. It wasn't  _trust_ , it was just. An extension of their odd alliance.   
  
     "No hurry," Spike said, heading towards Revello already, "Cept the sun I suppose." He smiled.  
  
     Buffy fought a fledge, first, breaking in her muscles on him, leaning back into the heels of being a Slayer. After him, one of the minions that had attacked her in the demon bar recognized her in the cemetery, and surprisingly enough, one on one with a Slayer at full strength, he didn't put up quite the fight he had in the demon brawl. The night was cool, she should've brought a sweater, and she told herself that was as good a reason as any for turning for home a little earlier than usual.   
  
     "Happy hunting, pet?" Spike greeted her from the porch, smoking- and it was an odd sight, to say the least. Not unwelcome, just odd. She'd expected him to lurk or.. maybe even to go home, eventually. All the lights were off in the house, except for the porch light, and Buffy was glad that hopefully meant her mother had gone to bed.   
  
     "Oh yeah. One less of your drinking buddies from the bar that night walking around tonight." She plopped down on the porch steps next to him, sending cigarette smoke wafting away.   
  
     "So an interesting thing happened tonight, luv."   
  
      "Uh oh." Was all Buffy offered him.   
  
      "I'm sitting here, breeze on my neck and all like you asked, and your mother comes out bearing a cup of ... _apples._ " He looked at her hard and suggestively.   
  
      "Oh  _god_ \- if you-"  
  
     " _To your grave,_ I believe was the agreed upon time _apples_ should be discussed. I'm assuming you didn't share the source of-"  
  
     "Cow's blood." Buffy stopped him. "I told her I was leaving cow's blood so I could give it to you later." Buffy tucked hair behind her ears. She hadn't expected her mother to play dutiful house-host to Spike, let alone even know he was there.   
  
      Blinking for a second, Spike realized Joyce had brought him blood, so she knew he was a vampire. He hadn't considered that angle of oddity while he was sitting here licking  _apples_ off his lips. Joyce had treated him.. quite casually for a bloke who caught slaughter her city block, he thought darkly. It struck him that Joyce had just been being nice.   
  
     "Look, thanks for not saying anything. I- You've been..." Buffy didn't want to say relieving when she still found his presence irritating, and frankly nothing in her life felt relieved. A vampire, keeping watching over her family, protecting her life, her Watcher not her Watcher...On _top_ of the ick factor of her mom serving up her blood to Spike like a cup of chamomile tea. "helpful. But no one can know. No one." 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reacting to fate.

    "I was hoping to find some other way, truthfully. An alternative of some kind." Giles' apology sounded hollow to his own ears. He didn't dare place his hand on Buffy's, he let her sit in his living room and digest.   
  
     They'd known the Master's prophecy, an open Hellmouth to come and free him from the  depths of Hell. Finally, in a text Giles had ordered weeks before the Council fired him- he found a passage about the ritual the Master vampire would have to perform; and  _when_ the it would be performed. The cycle of the moon narrowed it down for Giles to the 13th, a fortnight (2 Weeks in American, Buffy tried to tease), from then. In two weeks, it was written, like a scripture or promise or deadline- it was written the Master would kill her and the world opened to Hell. Giles waited in silence; usually something he begged of Buffy and now he wanted to beg her to end it.   
  
    "Buffy, I'm not your Watcher anymore," He started and saw her eyes welling with tears.   
  
     "And isn't that just the funny kind of convenient? You can take off your Watcher hat and slink back to England but I can't even skip being the Slayer long enough to go on a date or  _hey_ , make it through highschool." She heard herself, not being fair to him, and she didn't care. It didn't matter, because maybe nothing she did, no matter how much she pleaded, how many vampire mercenaries she hired, out of all the girl's in the world  _she'd_ been the one Chosen for death. That's what being the Slayer was- being Chosen for an early grave.   
  
     "I'm not your Watcher anymore. I don't  _have_ to tell you to fight the Master." Giles said solemnly, disturbed by tears dripping off of her chin; he'd admired her strength, in physicality and character, and faced with what sounded like a death sentence, he admired her still.   
  
    "Aren't you going to anyway?" Buffy asked, her voice raw and struggling. Hot tears still slipping down her cheeks, she let those fall, but stifled another round. Giles had lost his job protecting her, she knew that. She'd watched it.  "One girl in all the world stuff and everything. I haveta fight the Master." Sounding stronger but somber and resigned, Buffy saw the look in his face and continued. "So. I haveta fight the Master, so tell me how."  
  
     Giles blinked.   
  
     "How what, Buffy?"  
  
     "Even if I die, tell me how I win."   
  
  
xxx  
  
       
    After a few hours at Giles', Buffy's spirit and body felt cramped and tired. It was nearly time to patrol anyway, even if her heart wasn't at all in it. Sometimes kicking something's ass helped, but mostly Buffy just felt beat down. Squished by the prospect of evil and all Giles' books promising her death. Discussing the prophecy at length, was a conversation Buffy had dreaded for weeks. Now it was done, and she didn't feel better at all. Like something heavy sitting on her chest, she felt worse. The prophecy itself had been a whole lot vaguer than Buffy expected, and she couldn't make up her mind if that was good or bad. She wanted more details about the Master and his plan, but she couldn't exactly stomach having to read the fine print of her expiration. The thought ran through Buffy's head on repeat, poking through all other notions; she was going to die to save the world in a matter of two weeks.   
  
    A hand grabbed her shoulder in the dark cemetery and Buffy struck first, without realizing, she'd surprised Spike by the blow and knocked him to the ground.   
  
   "Sorry," She apologized before she thought about it- apologizing to Spike, a vampire for hitting him, "I'm a little punchy tonight. You should really invest in a bell."  
  
     He let her help him up, her hands warmer against his than he imagined.   
  
    "Not sure that'd be prime for me, pet." He smiled, noticing her expressions muted and her far off stare. He hadn't meant to disturb her but- "Something wrong, luv?"  
  
      Feeling torn, Buffy chewed her lip. She'd asked Giles not to say anything to anyone about knowing when the prophecy was- she wanted her last two weeks of life to feel, well, normal if possible. But Spike would have to know. She'd have to tell him, outloud, the reality of the thing; the reality of her death. The countdown to doomsday.   
  
     "Are you busy the thirteenth?" Her mouth smiled at him, without reaching her eyes.    
  
     "Can't see with what. Why, luv?" Lighting a cigarette, he walked at just a distance to her side.   
  
      "No big, really. That's the night Giles' books say I die." Mock-smile fixed on him now, he nearly dropped the cigarette from his lips.   
  
     Recovering, he tried to figure which question to ask first. He'd stopped her to complain about demons ruining his day; things were getting worse. The contrarian in him, the punk, wanted to tell the mob to go stuff it. But the vampire who needed sleep and blood was getting tired of being followed back to the crypt by a big-mouthed demon who needed a lesson in how soft William the Bloody hadn't gotten. But the idea vanished from his mind.   
  
     The thirteenth was only two weeks away. For a second, he wondered what the Slayers he killed were doing two weeks before he called. Shaking  _that_ thought from his head, too, Spike smelled the salt of Buffy's tears and turned his head from her.   
  
     "Well. What'd the Watcher's books say?" He rubbed his chin with his knuckles, wracking his brain for anything useful he could think of from his time with Aurelian Master. Lifetimes ago, when he'd been a young vamp just playing at punk. In his right mind, he should've reminded himself that this was just another job, for another girl, in any American town, who happened to be the Slayer. But all he could think about was not smelling her tears and not letting her die.   
  
     "Mmm, ex-Watcher," Buffy buried the lead. "Nothing too specific, apparently the old English are really big on vagueing it up. Mostly cryptic- creepy, old English words. Maybe it'd be up your alley. All ye's and thou's and Hell on Earth." She tried to look at him, but he was faced towards the middle of the cemetery. She could understand him not wanting part of a dead end mission; emphasis on the dead. "The thing is..." Buffy paused. "I'm not gonna make it, right? So I know, I mean- I'm not  _delusional_ , you're still a vampire and I'm still a Slayer, but... if you could- I'm just thinking..." Buffy took a stuttery breath, tired of stammering with her bottom lip quivering and her eyes threatening to spill tears. She tried to swallow them, be the face of defiance everyone expected of her. It'd worked on Giles, she could probably get it to work on Spike. Quiver still in her bottom lip, she didn't try to hide it from him.  
  
     "Let's walk you home, alright, pet. It's gonna be alright." He stepped to her, reaching his arm around the small of her back, gently, and was surprised at her lack of recoil; she listened, still fighting to swallow tears for what felt like the millionth time tonight.   
  
     They got as far as the porch steps and Buffy had resolved herself  to speaking the thing. If survival wasn't possible, there were other things to consider.  
  
     "Just bring me back." Rushing a whisper at him, she stared at the ground hard; angry and scared all over again.  
  
     She wasn't expecting as much confusion on his face. He look at her, brows knit close, she couldn't be saying...  
  
     "My...body." She whispered closer, mouth forming the words uncomfortably like it was already happening. "Don't... don't leave me with them. Dawn and my mom are gonna need..." She had been trying not to think of Dawn and her mother at all; they had been non-options in Buffy trains-of-thought. Being the Slayer had been hard enough on them, especially lately. She couldn't imagine them burying her; she desperately wanted to not imagine it. She felt her frustrations and fears bubble to the surface, overwhelmingly, looking to him like she was bound to fall apart. With Giles, she knew her tears had perturbed him; to sob in front of him would have increased his guilt, and she was tired of feeling sorry for his guilt. The look on Spike's face wasn't... perturbed, he was just watching her for a second.   
  
     Without thinking, he pulled her into his chest- a breath full of coconut shampoo and salty tears, and at least he didn't have to stand idly by while she broke down. She was warm in his arms, warm Slayer blood all fire in her- even now, angry and sad and scared. He pressed her into his chest, one arm wrapped around her- she was entirely too skinny to be a superhero, the other hand cupping the back of her head; smoothing soft hair beneath his fingers as months of anxiety and anguish spilled onto his t-shirt. Too-small balled fists in his duster, for long minutes Buffy just let the world be this; heavy sobs and heavy thoughts levied against a strong chest of someone who should be her enemy.   
  
     When she quieted, she stayed in his arms a second longer, wishing she could pretend snuggling your mortal fears into an immortal hired ally was within the realm of normal.   
  
    "I... can get you your blood." She said, stepping away, not sure where their conversation could really go after she'd been more Buffy with him than in months. She'd worked hard to cultivate steely nerves;  _for what_ , a thought bit at her. Why should she be embarrassed about anything with death as close to her door as Spike was, anyway?  
  
     "Keep it. Not hungry tonight, I'll pick it up, tomorrow, yeah?" Something played on his face that Buffy didn't have the energy to make sense of. Spike's t-shirt still felt damp with her tears, his hands still felt warm with her body heat, and his thoughts hadn't strayed from finding a way to change  _what was written._  
  
    "I...did  _apples_ before I went to Giles', though...Does it...I don't know if- blood gets stale or something." She half-missed the stinking cigarette inhale of his stupid leather duster. He hadn't said no, though. She could count on that at least, she hoped; unsure of everything now and still caught in the senselessness of it all. There was just so little time left...  
  
     "You don't." He watched her up the steps, face rife with the seriousness of a grave, and he turned away and then turned back. "It's not gonna come to  _that_ , y'know?" He hoped it sounded more like a promise to her ears. He shook his head at that hope but he hoped anyway. The thought of her going in her house, probably up to her room, crying her in bed alone almost had him begging for an invitation he knew she would deny. But at least he could promise. "It's not gonna come to that."  
  
     Nodding, Buffy leaned on the door and didn't believe him for a second. She was  _Chosen,_ after all. One girl in all the world. She didn't know how many girls in all the world had felt like her in this moment; trapped by destiny, and cornered by fate.   
  
     Walking away from Revello Drive, Spike had half a mind to go stake the Master himself- what was prophecy to a rebel? He was a vampire in love with a vampire Slayer, what was prophecy to him?  _In love with_... the thought crept in suddenly, in the way she'd let herself cling to him, the way her jaw softened when she saw the dust of a vamp, the crinkle in her nose when she gave him her blood. What was prophecy to a rebel? That gave him an idea.   
  
     Five minutes later, he rapped his knuckles on the Watcher's door.   
  
     "Do you have any  _idea-"  
  
_      "Let me in and show me the books." Spike leaned on the frame, cursing himself now for turning down a pint of the primo stuff. Would be a lot harder to keep from snacking on the Watcher on an empty stomach. Especially if he was going to keep making the annoyed and put upon face he was making at Spike now. If not  _biteable_ , it certainly screamed  _eat me_ , to Spike. It'd just felt...well, cheap; to take her blood that night. After hearing about the prophecy, and her crying into him...She said it herself, she was still the Slayer, he a vampire; hired fangs and fists. The thought of that not being enough had never occurred to him, until tonight; refusing payment in hopes of...something he couldn't pin down yet. Giles was still staring at him leaning in the doorway, and if the old man was really going to be this insufferable Spike could be unpleasant, too. "Buffy's prophecy, you wanna avoid it, yeah?"  
  
     "Very well. Come in, Spike." Giles rolled his eyes and shrugged off his sleep at once, reminded that Spike had saved his life once; he didn't have to trust him, but Giles' interest was piqued. Angel had a soul, a great anomaly on its own, but as far as Giles knew hadn't been particularly helpful in Buffy's nightly fight with demons, and Angel had never saved Giles' life. Sighing, Giles could only figure it was going to be a long night. But he intended to get some answers.   
  
     


	15. Chapter 15

     When reality took a turn for the surreal, that was where Buffy lived. Monsters and lingering in cemeteries and back alleys and death prophecies. A day had passed, and she wasn't coping, wasn't dealing, she was just taking life one demon fight at a time. It was hard not to tell Willow about the prophecy; Willow, who was talking about Homecoming dances or colleges and the rest of their lives. Buffy never noticed before, how much of living was spent on thinking about the future; Dawn talking about her birthday in six months or their mom talking about a maybe-vacation over the summer. She wondered if they'd still go without her, and she hoped they would.   
  
    A rising vampire stirred Buffy from her thoughts, the earth was clawed aside to free him. The headstone,  _Beloved Son and Brother,_ caught her eye for a moment, before the new vampire pushed her aside and ran. She hated when they ran. Running after him, she pulled him back by the shoulders, throwing him off-balance.   
  
    "Who  _are_ you, lady?" He fended blows with less-than deft skill.   
  
    "I'm Buffy, the Vampire Slayer." She smiled, wide and genuine for a frame in time, and then reanimated, punching the vampire again.   
  
    Staking him through the heart, ashes scattering everywhere, Buffy brushed her bangs back and took a deep breath. Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  _Beloved Daughter and Sister.  
  
     _ _And_ she'd gotten the hem of her pants dirty chasing him. Brushing herself off in more ways than one, she tucked her stake in her back pocket, and set her feet to the next cemetery. She couldn't help but wonder when Spike was going to show up.   
  
     Eventually, she heard fighting in the cemetery, and bet her blood it would be Spike. Ears perked for his laugh and growls, Buffy walked towards her best bet; where the yelling got louder.   
  
     "Don't know what you're talking about, but the girl's already told  _destiny_ to sod off." Buffy heard, and through a set of trees she saw Spike spit blood, shoving a vampire who's back was to her. She'd only seen Spike go forehead-lumpies a handful of times, usually when her blood was in play, but even at a distance she could see he was full-fanged, fury focused on the other's demon's face. It wasn't creepy just watching, she defended herself to no one; she knew  _he_ certainly liked to watch her fight. She was just doing that. And eavesdropping. Not that they were keeping the shouting match quiet.   
  
     "I'm telling you, William, leave Buffy alone. Leave. Buffy. Alone." The contender punctuated with blows into Spike's face, bashing his head against a nearby tree, nearly splintering it, and  _now_ Buffy heard Spike laugh.   
  
      _Wait a minute_ , Buffy strained her eyes to see, getting closer with every step towards the fight. First of all, they were arguing about her obviously- and wasn't that-  
  
     " _Angel?_ " Buffy took off, throwing herself at Angel, who'd been kicking Spike while he was down. Tossing Angel back, she remembered something they'd joked about, back when they were flirting...  _if_ she could take him. The look on his face of shock and anger didn't look joking now. Eyes glowing yellow, Buffy ignored him, turning back to Spike. Splintered tree everywhere, she bit back a crack about a stake factory, and saw blood running down his nose and mouth; probably his, judging from Angel's knuckles. Spike was up, making a show of licking his lips in a way that made Buffy roll her eyes, and he saw she looked a bit better with rest and time.   
  
     "Does that face mean you're okay then?" She hoped she sounded annoyed. Unsure of why, she tried not to question that impulse and sighed, looking between the two vampires.   
  
     "Right as rain, pet." He smiled at her, still bloody and vamped out and he saw her want to laugh.  _Right as rain_ , he thought.   
  
     "So it's true then?" Angel was back on his feet, human face returned, charging back into Buffy's face.   
  
     With a hand, Spike kept him at bay, and that made the Slayer smile too, even though she kept rolling her eyes at him.   
  
    "What's true, Angel?" She looked him over. That whole 'you look good' thing with exes didn't really work for vampires, Buffy wanted to joke. He looked exactly the same as when he left for LA.   
  
     "You two  _are_ working together?" Angel looked into Buffy's face, and then at Spike;  _smelling_ something off now that he couldn't put his finger on. "Buffy- he's dangerous. He's  _soulless_. He'll turn on you the second you turn your back." Angel's voice strained, a tick in his jaw when he looked at Spike.   
  
     "Really? Or will he just run to LA, the exact minute I need him the most?" Buffy crossed her arms, feeling petty but not letting it stop her. For the millionth time, her brain reminded her that she was paying Spike to stay; she was paying for his loyalty and support. Even still, he gave it, and wasn't that what mattered? "Why  _are_ you here now, Angel?"  
  
     Spike felt like sticking his tongue out at Angel, who's eyes were downcast for a minute. It'd been a long time since he'd seen ole Angelus; one of his first clients, before he'd gotten exclusively into the mercenary business. They'd been sort of a makeshift family- close until they weren't, and nearly always at eachother's throats. Spike wasn't sure of the exact nature of his and Buffy's relationship, or much about the cursed soul that wasn't rumor, and he found himself burdened with just not caring very much about it.   
  
    "There are reports coming out of Sunnydale, that you've been working with this  _animal._ " Angel looked at Spike hard, remembering their past. "I  _tried_ to send him the message to leave you-"  
  
     " _You're the one_ who's been sending the bloody graveyard brigade? Oh you've really got quite the set of-"  
  
     "What do you mean tried to stop Spike?" Buffy asked Angel, but her eyes went to Spike.   
  
     " _Buffy_ ," Angel had explanation in his voice. "I was only looking out for you- I had some Sunnydale contacts look Spike up-"  
  
     "Had them  _assault me_ , more like." Spike lit a cigarette. "Every night there's nasties waiting for a bloke in his own crypt away from home."   
  
      "It was only to get you to get  _gone_ ," Angel snarled at Spike, and Buffy saw red all over.   
  
      Since becoming the Slayer, since the  _prophecy_ , Buffy had trusted only a handful of people and a whole bunch of them let her down. Angel had pulled a disappearing act, Giles had  _drugged_ her, her family  _tried_ but didn't understand- even if she'd had to  _pay_ Spike, she'd paid him as an insurance policy on her  _life_ and Angel had undermined that from a city away.   
  
      "I get that you two obviously have some sordid, twisted past here, believe me I do, but I'm in the  _fight_ of my life. Not  _even_  --I'm in a fight to my death and don't you  _think_ I thought about the  _risks_ of an alliance with Spike don't you think I've  _worried_ about being the worst Slayer in history to earn her death saving the world? Don't you think I realize it's wrong?  _I don't care._ If Spike helps me live, I don't care. That's the deal we made; so far, Spike's been the best ally I've ever had. Sure, his cigarettes smell and he curses and god the  _attitude_ , but Spike's done everything I've asked. He's saved my life. He's saved  _Dawn's_ life. You weren't here, Angel."  
  
     "Buffy, I was supposed to be your destiny; it was  _written-"  
  
     _ Buffy swung first, connecting her fist with Angel's face.   
  
     " _Don't._ Tell me about destiny." Buffy took a deep breath and a step back. "If you want to help me and Spike..." She winced as Angel brought his eyes back up to her. "The night of the 13th, the Master's supposed to be throwing a shindig where, you know, I die and stuff." She shuffled through the words like they were a joke, shrugging off her recurring nightmares about Angel holding her body. If he wanted to help, she meant it. She could use every spare cavalry available.   
  
      "Buffy... it wasn't supposed to be this way." Angel  _felt_ that, even as he watched Buffy's head jerk to the side, towards Spike. "I know about the prophecy. Spike said you've...  _hired_ him," Angel smiled at Spike, wicked grin brought back, "To watch your back with the Master. A long time ago, me and Spike could've been that clan in the prophecy. But that wasn't supposed to be, either. You said it yourself, Buffy, you know this isn't right."  
  
     "Is that  _vague_ for you're not gonna help save the world? Cause we should really go if we're done here. Kind of working on limited time." Chewing the inside of her lip, Buffy wanted to reprimand herself for getting even a shred of a hope up that Angel was here to help. Buffy turned to Spike, the other half of the  _we,_  and liked the smile he wore now.  
  
   "What're you paying him?" Angel paused. "Word is, William's a hard gun to hire. Especially for a human." Angel glared at Spike, and Buffy froze.   
  
      "Merc-client privilege. Sorry, Peaches." Spike stepped between them, and the air changed.   
  
     "You're a pig, Will. Always was. Did you tell her about the other Slayer you killed? Did you tell her about the centuries of bloodshed and mayhem? What could a high school student possibly offer you? Who are you really working for, Will? Buffy, I thought you were smart-" Angel spoke til Spike roared, and Buffy turned back to them.  
  
      "Oh, we had a long chat about the other Slayer bird, didn't we, pet? Knows about the unsavory bits of my past. Trusts me all the same. Say,  _Angelus,_ did you tell her about yours or did you go straight for the knickers?" Spike licked the last bit of blood out of his teeth, feeling much better about his odds with Angel now, and looking for a new fight.   
  
     "Buffy he's  _lying_ to you. He's probably working for the Master,  _think_ about it- think about what he must be offering him." Angel just wanted her to think  _sensibly._ He just wanted her to  _think._  
  
"My blood." She said quietly, looking awfully sorry to do it. "In exchange for my _blood_ , he protects me. And my family, and my _friends_ , and my life. Apparently he's had to contend with nasty drop by's from friends of _yours_ , too. I told you, I don't care. Spike's my best bet, my only bet, and if you think I'm giving that up because you don't think it's right or you two have this centuries old beef, I don't  _care_ about any of that, don't you get it yet, Angel?  I don't want to die. Conveniently enough, _you're_ too busy to help me stay alive, right?" Buffy was riled, and angry, now. No fear in her, staring Angel straight down.  "I feed Spike my blood when he asks and he's helping me fight destiny." The gleam in her eye touched Spike when it found him, and he could swear it made her smile a little to let go of  _apples_. The truth was out there, in the air. And by her own account, she didn't care. "Goodbye, Angel. This might not be how it's supposed to be, but it is how it is. Reality is surreal, and I'm the thing monsters have nightmares about. It is what it is."  
  
     Spike watched Buffy stepping away, and he watched Angel lunge for her. The perfect excuse for a second go. Buffy kept walking ahead.   
  
     Grabbing Angel by his collar with one hand, Spike unleashed a number of sound punches, and consequently dropped him to the ground. Then he took off after Buffy, leaving Angelus in his past, like he always had.   
  
     "Did you tell her you're in love with her?" Angel called after them, growling, just getting to his feet and mournfully watching them go. "Did you _tell_ her you're in love with her?" He called again, louder.   
  
     Spike could've felt his heart stop, if it.. you know, already wasn't still. _Should've just staked Peaches when I had the chance,_ Spike couldn't help but think. He watched Buffy's chin drop her to chest for a minute, and he wasn't sure of what to make of that.   
  
     "I thought I was just a client?" Buffy turned her head to him, not sure what to believe just then.  
  
     "Right. And I'm just a vampire." He tilted his head to her, wanting to explain to himself how the hell they'd gotten here.   
  
     "And I'm gonna be dead in like. Not very long." Buffy said, keeping her eyes down and the rest of her thoughts to herself. "So, you know. Probably a bad idea to fall in love _now_ , as ideas go and everything."   
  
     Spike wasn't sure what  _that_ meant, but he could figure it would've drove Angelus crazy to hear. It wasn't disgust, it didn't feel like disgust. That'd been his fear, mostly.   
  
     She shook her head and they walked the rest of the way home in silence; Spike not sure what to say, and Buffy regretting what she hadn't said. 


	16. Prophecy Girl

     Buffy's vision blurred, damp hair covered part of her face, sticking with wet. She blinked her vision clearer for a minute, not quite ready to pull herself out of the puddle, not quite sure if she could. Face sideways in the water, cold and probably dying, flashes of  _how_ ran through her mind almost in slow motion, but almost in hyperspeed. The last weeks of sparring and battle-prep and the impending death march running like blood through her ears. Coming down here, determined, to end it. To take the Master with her, even in the face of death. Crossbow in her hands, Spike behind her, down in the tunnelwork of Sunnydale again, she'd seen the candles and the Master. She'd heard the part about the hunter and the lamb, about how she was the lamb in that algebra. They'd chased the Master around, and she'd been disarmed, Spike tossed to a valley in the cave. The  _pull_ of the Master made her scream, it was that lack of control, his power keeping her in place to be bitten, in place to be drank. Face still half in the water, she closed her eyes at the tingle in her neck, at her pain. She let her eyes stay closed.   
  
    "And _you._  You could have had everything, dear William. Taking my side as the right hand of the apocalypse, with all the spoils of destroying a world thrown to your feet. Instead, you charge my dark palace-prison. You challenge prophecy, my written success, with a girl, a Slayer at that, and for what? An early end to eternity? I've waited too long for my rightful place in the end of the world. You certainly shall not stand in my way, where the Slayer couldn't. You could have had a real place in my world." The Master was kneeling down to Spike's splayed body, speaking into his bloodied and battered face.   
  
    Spike heard the Master, but wasn't listening- the one eye that hadn't swollen shut lolled past the Master, trying to focus on Buffy's body. Over the rush of the water, dampening her body, her dress, Spike strained to hear a heartbeat he couldn't be sure was just wishful thinking.   
  
     Buffy inhaled, shakily and sputtering, when water caught up her nose, shocking her eyes back open, for good. Clumsily, she rolled onto her back, leaning up, soaked, stunned, and angry.   
  
     "I don't think it's yours just yet."  
  
     For his part, the Master looked to her, more than stunned and beyond furious. When she charged him, spite increased the fury of her blows, her life in full vigor by defiance only. Defiance of everything, of destiny, and fate, and death, and especially the Master. Especially the Master. Hammering him back against the cave's wall, every tired thought she had moments ago disappeared.  
  
      
    He traded blows with her, sending her reeling back for a moment, before grabbing her by the throat. She still had no weapon, no way to kill him, no way to end it.   
  
   "You have fruit punch mouth." She looked up at him, the face of a monster, the things she killed. And then she punched him in the face,  _hard,_ with all the force of protecting the world.   
  
    Spike smiled, starting to feel strong enough to get to his feet. The Master had thrown him by the duster deep into the lair, and had used ancient vampire power to subdue him, to boot. All the talk of a right hand in the apocalypse; Spike knew the Master always had a flair for the dramatic, prophesied returning to the surface notwithstanding. Angel had been right, in other realities maybe Spike played for that side and all it's wicked fun. But in this one, he wanted to rally for a Slayer who believed more than ever in herself over destiny.  
  
    When the Master recovered from the blow, his hand found Buffy's throat again. Again, she looked around for her crossbow or a stake or a ..  _Spike_. She looked to him, over the Master's shoulder. Stake still in his right hand. She'd placed her bet on Spike, and now she was going to once more.  
  
    "Where are your jibes now?" The Master snarled, still grabbing Buffy by the throat, aggravating the bite he'd made. "Will you laugh when my Hell is on Earth?"  
  
    "You're that amped about Hell?" Buffy felt his hand tighten on her throat. "Go there."  
  
    She shoved the Master back, thrusting him into Spike's waiting stake, and for a minute it's like all the evil in the world seeped into his ashes, clouded the cave.   
  
    For a second, Buffy stood still. The Master had lost. For all of destiny, for all of prophecy, for all the Hell on Earth; he'd lost, and she'd won.   
  
    "I can't believe we just did that." She said finally, swallowing heavier thoughts and meeting Spike's expectant eyes. A chill she couldn't fight still unsettled her.   
  
    "Hey, I just carried the stakes, love."  
      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, i love prophecy girl it's one of my favorite episodes and i really struggled with how much to change, and obviously i didn't change much. hope all the *points* are there :P


	17. Chapter 17

     Helping Buffy out of the cave, out of the hole, Spike couldn't help but stare at her. For long moments during the ordeal, he'd believed her to be dead, but she'd shown destiny that she could punch back. Out in the streets of Sunnydale again, away from the almost-open Hellmouth, and almost-certain apocalypse, Buffy's breath came easier; it was easier to pretend the whole thing had been another bad nightmare, _another_ bad dream. Apocalypse averted and all, but Buffy felt drained; physically, mentally, it'd taken everything in her to beat the Master, everything inside of her to save the world. She remembered moments in the water, moments where she'd almost been too tired to do it, too tired to fight.

     "I think I heard you." Buffy said, breaking the easy silence between them, as he turned to her confused. "When I was..." _Dying_ ; she didn't say. "Really out of it, I think I heard you; telling the Master how I was gonna be the one to put him back underground, kill him for good."

     Spike cleared his throat; _desperate taunts from a nearly-dead vamp merc_ , he shook his head, unapologetic in his loyalty after everything.

     "Well; I just thought you could." He stated softly and simply. Meeting her eyes, Spike realized he hadn't been paying attention to where they were walking, as long as he followed her away from the Hellmouth. The energy she'd scrounged to fight the Master in the last round, showed on her face now; in the wells of her dry eyes, Spike swore he saw something in her then that hadn't been there before the fight. Before she'd... "He bit you," Facing her, Spike went to reach for her neck, as she flinched away.

     "I couldn't overpower him. He... he did something." Like she needed to explain it, she winced. Tentatively, Buffy recovered from the flinch, reaching for Spike's hand with both of hers, she brought it up to her neck.

     Silently, Spike examined the bite; a brutal, bloody mess, the work of a savage- Spike was surprised she survived that, let alone everything else in the fight against the Master. Normally, the smell of her blood intoxicated him, with hunger and desire; the smell of it now, marked her brush with death and stung his nostrils.

     "It'll scar," Watching her face for signs of pain, Spike thumbed the trail of blood over her collarbone. "I'm sorry I didn't-" He stopped himself, thinking about what she'd said. The Master had done something to her; more than bite her, more than traumatize her, more than threaten her life and her world. "Thrall. Ancient vampires like old batface can sometimes use a power to compel you to do things against your will." Under his hand, Buffy fought a shiver, and nodded.

     "It was like, I couldn't move against it." _Well, nightmare fodder for years to come, even if I never see another vampire_ , she wanted to joke. To push the whole thing aside, start her life fresh tomorrow. But there wouldn't be any going back. "Until I did, I guess."

     In the cool, Sunnydale evening air, Buffy was struck with the realization that no one would ever know about all the times she'd stared into the face of hell as it taunted her, all the times she'd put her life on the line to save the world. The fact that she'd won, meant no one would ever have to know; her family, her world, would never have to face the depths of darkness she contended with daily.

     "Are you... alright?" The word felt silly to Spike; she was bleeding from her throat, she'd almost died, and she seemed to be lost in her own town, standing out on the street with him.

     Too quickly, Buffy nodded her assurance. "I just have to... go tell Giles the mission was a success," the words left her mouth feeling empty and tasting bitter. "You know, crisis averted, prophecy side-stepped, blah bity bah. He's gonna ask all of his questions, how I survived, you know. And I just..." Looking up at Spike, Buffy shrugged, feeling her cheeks go hot. "I saw myself, in that water like my nightmares. Wet and dying, and cold; only I saw you, too, and I wasn't alone this time. I felt myself slipping, and it was like; I'm not done, yet. You know? I didn't think I'd survive, but I wanted like another five minutes." She shrugged again, fighting tears gathering against her lashes. "But I think I'm alright," She nodded, her warm hands against his cold one, steadying his feel on her shoulder. "Relegated to turtlenecks for the rest of my life," She grumbled, gesturing to the open cuts on her throat. She'd killed him, the biggest evil she'd ever faced, and she'd come out battered, bruised, and bitten, but she'd won.

     Spike smiled, and wished he could remember if the other Slayers he'd faced had her sense of humor. Dry, morbidity-laced humor, but he had to smile all the same. In a fluid movement, she nodded herself sure, and brought his hand down from her, and interlaced their fingers. "Walk me to Giles', okay? I know tonight's our last night of..." Buffy trailed off. "Well, I hired you to protect me from the Master," She reminded both of them of that fateful night outside the Bronze that seemed forever ago, "and aside from my new initiation into the national scarf-wearers club, you've done your job, Spike." Clinging to her life meant Buffy realized she had plenty to lose, and holding Spike's hand on the way to Giles' felt like another small way she could fight destiny.

     With their palms pressed together, walking side by side, Spike could feel the blood in hers, hot and full of power; he could feel the soft edges of her skin, the tiny points of her fingernails against the back of his hand. He'd come to her as fists and fangs, hundreds of years of misdeeds and machismo for the right price. Arriving at Giles' front door, Spike was slow to let her hand go from his.


	18. Don't Go Out, Tonight

     Spike stood in the cemetery, eyeing the moon in the sky, high and bright. Sunnydale had gone quiet, restful, even peaceful, in the wake of the Master's death. For weeks, only the slowest, stupidest vamps and demons came to town, to test their luck and bravado against the Slayer who defied her own written death. Next to prophecy? Spike beamed like the moon that she could defy all else, too. Especially with a vampire merc for a sidekick-mascot.

     Exhaling his cigarette smoke, he turned to watch her when he heard her coming; hair shiny in the moonlight, and disapproving smile already fixed on the cigarette between his lips.

     "Those things started making my clothes smell," She greeted him with an expectant pause. On cue, Spike tossed the spent cigarette, and licked his lips before kissing her hello. Slowly, Buffy broke their kiss, already noticing the cigarette stench less. Or, at least minding it less. "What do you think of the moon tonight?"

     With one arm still wrapped around her, Spike looked to the sky, again. "All the better to see you with, my dear," He smiled. Yeah, yeah, the wolf analogy held water, he had to admit.

     "Giles says it's bad news; well, more bad news than usual. Something demonic this way comes," tossing blonde hair over her shoulder, even Buffy's scar from the Master was visible in the moonlight.

     "Bad moon on the rise, huh?" Spike let the reference slide over her head, as he slid his thumb down her scar. Weeks after the fight with the Master, he still caught her staring into space sometimes, off fighting the Master in other ways. Right then, she was smiling at him, right there with him, in the Sunnydale demonic moonlight.

     "On the... _bright_ side, pun intended, he thinks it'll only be bad during the full moon," Buffy felt Spike's hand creeping dangerously low on her body, and smacked his arm, teasing. "Get handsy later, we're supposed to be saving the world, protecting the town, slaying creatures of the night, etc."

     "I _am_ a creature of the night," he teased back, smiling at the way she hadn't moved away from him, Spike pecked at her cheek with his lips, and let go of her. "But, if it'll only be bad during the full moon..." He checked her face again, "tonight's the full moon, pet."

     Pulling two stakes from the sleeves of her leather jacket, Buffy smiled, too. "Right. You like fights, right?" Handing him one of her stakes, Buffy twirled the one she kept, eyes never leaving Spike's.

     Spike turned, hearing something coming from his left. In the moonlight, he could make out something with teeth, and muscles... and lots of friends coming behind him.

     "Balls," he sighed. "You know, I got in less trouble working as a mercenary for a hundred years. I wear the leather but I really think you're the bad influence, Slayer." Demons with at least two rows of teeth encircled them; a vamp couldn't even get a romantic, moonlit moment with his Slayer girlfriend anymore, and what was the world coming to, if that. "After this, we're going drinking," he readied himself for the fight ahead, and watched Buffy pull another stake from her back pocket for herself.

     "I'm still underage," She sing-songed, throwing herself head-first into the throng of demons advancing on them. 

     Even like this, fighting a crowd of demons, Spike had to smile at her, at her life, at her mouth, at the way she tore into her opponents and kept a lip-glossed smile on her face. He isn't about to campaign for hero's sidekick of the year or anything, after all, those cigarettes were stolen, but helping her, staying with her and keeping her alive to love her, at some point had become less of a job, and more of a desire. More of a necessity.

     Watching her roundhouse kick a demon over a headstone, Spike had to smile that it also had it's fun moments, too.


End file.
